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A 


PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


BY , 

JOHN CALVIN WALLIS. 



A fool, a fool ! — I met a fool, — 

A motley fool ; — a miserable world ! — 
As I do live by food, I met a fool. 



rr 


Copyright, 1881, by John Calvin Wallis, 




“ High thought and amiable words, and courtliness, and the 
desire of fame, and love of truth, and all that makes a man.” 


/ 



A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


CHAPTER I. 


“ Up I sprung — and upright stood on my feet. 

About me round I saw hill, dale, and shady woods, 

And sunny plains and liquid lapse of murmuring streams. 
By these, creatures that lived and moved and walked or 
flew, 

Birds on the branches warbling ; — all things smiled.’ ’ 

Milton's Paradise Lost. 


Summer reigned at Slopingdale. May and June 
had come and gone, leaving their perfumed breath 
in the air, and now July was here with its oppres- 
sive heat. From the verdure-clad hills behind 
the old town, which promised a plentiful harvest, 
to the hovering trains on the horizon, which seemed 
to be waiting to carry that harvest to market, there 
was a general summer glow. The customary haze 
which was wont to obscure the view as it bore its 
freight of chills and fever on foggy wings had, 
for the time being, disappeared from the river. A 
slight breeze stirred aimlessly among the branches 
of the young water-willows along the shore, and 
1 * 5 


6 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


rippled the surface of the shallow river into an 
aqueous goose-flesh under the fervent heat of the 
blazing sun. Up and down the glistening river, 
and far across the noble farms of the bordering 
country, the view spread out unobscured and un- 
obstructed, presenting to the beholder as fair a 
scene as rests beneath the sky. From the narrow 
strip of shoreland, along the tree-tops, across the 
fenced fields to the near mountains, spread a vision 
of green, gradually shaded up from the light pea- 
green of the grass growing on the gravel bar to 
the deeper tints of the willows and clover-fields, 
to the still deeper shades of the mountain woods 
in the distance. Right within the path of this 
verdant vision, and harmonizing perfectly with the 
prevailing tint of the landscape, stood a couple of 
lone fishermen just fresh from a joint and several 
experience of fisherman’s luck. 

Here on the banks of the brawling Susquehanna, 
on a spot of earth as fresh and fragrant as a flower, 
a little village of perhaps a hundred houses nes- 
tles on the sloping shore, while behind stretches a 
background of farming country in a pleasant vista 
of smiling fields and happy homes extending far 
across the hills, and still beyond all this, and fairly 
circling the horizon, rise the mountains, shaded 
from the nearest green to the distant blue, sur- 
rounding country, town, and river, and closing in 
the scene. Over this fair spot the unclouded sky 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


7 


spans as blue as over storied Venice; — the trees 
rustle, the river ripples, the birds sing, — and be- 
hold ! this is Slopingdale. 

From this great hill behind the village one can 
look over the whole landscape, — can see the old 
town and the grass-grown river in its slow course, 
the grain-fields and watered meadows stretching 
far away to the feet of the mountains. Standing 
on this height, viewing the delightful prospect, one 
involuntarily exclaims, “ How like a perfect picture 
from the hand of God !” 

Everything is still up here, — quiet as the graves 
whose white tombstones glitter in the sun down 
there among the tall pines in the village cemetery. 
Everything is peaceful, restful, sleepy; the sail- 
boats move slowly through the water, the cars 
move slowly on the horizon, the people saunter 
"slowly through the streets. These are the only 
visible signs of life, except a few cows in the 
meadows, a few birds in the sky, a few wagons 
creeping along the dusty road which winds now 
into and now out of view far away in the west, 
and except a motionless boy lying full length under 
the great oak on this greenest hill. 

One likes the picture of that boy. There is a 
charm about him that arrests attention. His pres- 
ence brightens the scene wonderfully. The whole 
world seems to hem him round and frame him in 
as though it loved him. 


8 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


He seems to be a slender lad of weakly frame 
and modest manner as he lies there with great blue 
eyes looking out from under a broad, pale brow 
upon the beautiful country, — a slender boy with 
brown hair and smooth face; looking closer, with 
aquiline features, small hands and feet, and, pos- 
sibly, mental nervous temperament; a slender boy 
of seventeen, dressed in ill-fitting but clean clothes, 
wearing a ten-cent straw hat, and possessing the 
tastes and sensibility of a woman; a slender boy, 
having the hand of a girl, the mind of a man, and 
the heart of a child ! 

Just such a boy like this must have been the 
philosopher and poet John Milton. 

On reflection the resemblance could not possibly 
have extended farther than mere external appear- 
ance, for this boy’s name is William Smith. Who- 
ever heard of the world honoring with distinction 
anybody with such a name ? 

William Smith, clerk in the store of Gorham 
& Son, Market Square, Slopingdale, had gone 
on an errand to the country for the purpose, as 
directed by his employers, of “ drumming up fresh 
eggs and butter,” and, having completed his mis- 
sion, was returning home, when the cool shade of 
the monster oak there on the hill-side enticed him 
to stop and rest. Perhaps the occupation of the 
day had not been pleasant, perhaps butter and eggs 
had “riz” or were “scerce,” perhaps the search 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


9 


for these valuable commodities had palled on the 
spirit as a thing far too small for the zeal of a 
human soul. Howbeit, the boy was out of humor 
and sighed deeply as he threw himself on the 
gra'ss and looked around upon the familiar coun- 
try. After a long look, in which, I fear, he saw 
little beauty in the scenery, he untied his necktie, 
unbuttoned his shirt-collar, and proceeded to read 
a book which he drew from his shirt-bosom. 

In a couple of minutes he was oblivious of the 
world. 

Time sped on, the shadows of the tree length- 
ened on the hill and crept through the fence into 
the farther field. The sun searched out and beat 
upon his face; still he read on. At length he fin- 
ished and closed the book, placing it again in his 
bosom, and rose upon his elbow with a bright look 
beaming in his eyes. 

He had read the New Testament History of 
Christ, finishing with the temptations in the wil- 
derness, where the Saviour deliberately determines 
not to use His supernatural power to accomplish 
His work in the world, but, on the contrary, to 
found His great empire on the love of mankind, 
by devoting His terribly pure life to doing them 
good, — an act which seemed to the reader, just 
then, more than aught else to endear the name 
of Jesus to sinning man. 

Those temptations had long been mysterious 


10 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


tilings to the boy, as well as to many other and 
older good people, but he believed he understood 
them now, — understood them as temptations that 
came not alone to the Master, but that come some 
time to every aspiring human mind, — temptations 
to sin in various ways, always hard to resist, but 
to be overcome as the Master overcame them, — 
by trust in God and doing our duty towards our 
fellow-men. 

The lesson was needful just at the time. How 
often had he fretted his soul against the narrow 
barriers of his life, like a bird against its cage, in 
the vain effort to escape from the confined con- 
dition in which Providence or a hard fate had 
placed him ! Had he not to-day even coolly enter- 
tained the thought that it might after all, perhaps, 
be a good thing to leap down that chasm in the 
hills among those sharp-pointed rocks and so dis- 
appear from the living ? And why should he live? 
Was not his life one wild throbbing tumult of de- 
sire never to be gratified or satisfied? Was it not 
one vast maelstrom of seething ambition never to 
be quelled or stilled ? Was it not a constant battle 
with self, making existence a misery and death a 
relief? 

No, the boy was not crazy. He was only 
thoughtful, sensitive, ambitious, — the kind of soul 
always and everywhere doomed to the most rest- 
less discontent and the keenest unhappiness. To 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


11 


have been born an idiot would have been better 
in one sense, for it would have brought unalloyed 
contentment. The boy having been gifted with 
finer qualities and endowments, and feeling sensi- 
ble of their possession, though at the same time 
not knowing how to use or enjoy them, he became 
miserable. 

The thought that the Master had felt as he did 
and had conquered the feeling stilled the unrest 
within him, and calmed him, for the moment, to a 
sense of thankfulness for life ; he would conquer, 
too, by God’s help ! 

The evening deepened, and he stood up in the 
gathering twilight. There was trust, confidence, 
hope, in his face as he leaned against the tree and 
spoke aloud, — 

“ What a beautiful world ! And I am alive in 
it, — alive and created to enjoy it. Why, I ought 
to be happy and not miserable. These feelings 
that stir up my soul and make me unhappy are 
not from God but from the devil. They are 
temptations, and must be conquered and overcome. 
I will conquer them. How often I have rebelled 
against Heaven, and thought it cruel that I was 
ever sent into this world, unasked and by force, 
to pass a narrow life in this solitary spot! How 
often I have longed to go out into the great world 
lying beyond these circling mountains, where ac- 
tion, conflict, joy, are to be found ! My tempta- 


12 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


tion is discontent with my lot. This I must over- 
come. Patiently I must strive and wait, and per- 
haps some time I shall conquer, and all will be 
well.” 

But even as he spoke the joy faded out of his 
face as the day out of the sky, and a frown gath- 
ered on his brow and his eyes flashed with the fire 
of gathering feelings which would not be repressed. 
He looked around him at world and sky as only 
an ardent soul can look when moved by the spirit 
of youth. The change was instantaneous, its ex- 
pression electric. 

“ No,” he cried, resolutely ; “ I will not believe 
that my soul's best strivings, its fairest wishes, and 
grandest hopes are from the Evil One; I cannot 
believe it; I can never overcome these feelings. 
Temptations they may be, but I know that I shall 
ever feel thus, — it is my nature. God, — God 
formed me with these feelings ; He sent me into 
the world with them, He gave me my soul, He fills 
it with this longing, He made me, not the devil!” 

And so the sad hour of conflict with himself 
came upon the boy, coming to him, as it comes to 
all of us some time in our lives, in a form seem- 
ingly the severest and most unendurable. It 
seemed to him impossible that he should be re- 
quired to relinquish his dearest wishes and give 
up his best hopes. It looked horrible. He could 
not live without hope. “ Man liveth not by bread 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


13 


alone, but by every word which proceed eth from 
God,” rung in his ears. It was true, then, that 
aims, desires, purposes, hopes, were permitted. If 
necessary to man who should say that they were 
not from God ? 

At length he sank on his knees and prayed, — 

“ O Father in heaven, look kindly upon thy 
child ; teach him to know and do Thy will ; help 
him to live right; make his spirit resigned towards 
Thee and strong against the world, and protect 
and save him, for Christ’s sake. Amen.” 

Happy indeed are they whose soul conflicts 
leave them the victors ! Battle with the world is 
hard enough, and many are overcome in the un- 
equal contest. Still there is a strength born of 
such a battle, — born of a grapple with tangible 
things, — which grows fresher and stronger with 
every rebound. In the soul’s struggle there is no 
such discipline. The wrestler in such a contest 
has no foothold. Like a storm-blown ship amid 
the breakers, tossed to and fro at the mercy of the 
waves, the poor soul floats helplessly to its fate, 
with no pilot to direct its course and without an 
anchor that holds. 

The sun had disappeared below the hills, leav- 
ing a lane of gold far into the clouded sky like a 
path into heaven. Soon the air began to chill, 
growing cool and damp with the falling dew. One 
by one the sorrowful stars crept into view, beamed, 
2 


14 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


glinted, glittered, until the blue depths of creation 
blazed with jewelled splendor. 

The boy arose to go down into the village. He 
felt conscious that in his struggle he had not con- 
quered, and that other days would witness the re- 
newed conflict. Standing there on the hill as still 
as nature itself, with the weird silence of a virgin 
world around him, the possession of conscious life 
seemed a dreadful burden and responsibility, and 
the question of how to use it, how not to abuse it, 
an unanswered and unanswerable problem. In 
after-years he came to know that “ true bliss is 
found in holy life, in charity to man, in love to 
God,” but just then it seemed impossible of attain- 
ment, or at best to come only through resignation 
to Heaven and struggle against the world. 

With a determined look he set his face towards 
the village, where tallow candles were beginning 
to shine from the windows, and stepped out into 
the night, and as he did so he heard a movement 
in the branches of the old oak ; another, and right 
above his head. 

The boy was not superstitious in the ordinary 
acceptation of the term ; he was rather skeptical 
than otherwise. He never had believed in ghosts, 
popular as such a belief was in Slopingdale. He 
took pride in being above such a weakness. That 
movement in the tree, however, startled him as 
something eerie and supernatural. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


15 


He stood rooted to the earth, peering through 
the night into the branches, listening. Could it 
have been the wind ? There was no wind, not a 
breath in the air. Was it imagination? No, he 
could not be mistaken, there was something moved 
up there ; what was it ? 

He stood motionless. The night was not very 
dark, but there was no moon, and all objects were 
darkly outlined against the sky, — the tree with its 
luxuriant foliage and low sweeping branches rising 
colossal before the strained expectant gaze. 

Perfect silence. 

Gradually but surely the sense of a presence 
obtruded upon the wondering mind and made the 
anxious heart beat faster ; it grew stronger, pass- 
ing rapidly from suspicion into belief, from belief 
to conviction, from conviction to certainty. Was 
it a ghost? 

The watchful gaze dropped to the level of the 
horizon with the dreadful thought; it turned 
slowly, irresolutely, irresistibly to the near grave- 
yard, where the white stones here and there dis- 
cernible seemed stepping out towards the hill from 
the horrid shades. 

I think all men have some time suffered from 
fear; and I believe, furthermore, that all except 
cowards will acknowledge it. The difference be- 
tween a brave man and a coward is, after all, only 
a difference in fortitude, — it is simply a question 



16 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


of nerve . The brave man feels fear as well as the 
coward, but he stands up under it, while the coward 
lies down or runs away. 

William Smith, it must be confessed, was afraid, 
but, thanks to courage, he stood up under the 
feeling. He would have stood his ground if the 
sheeted dead had risen, and filed past with clank- 
ing bones and grinning skulls. 

Once in his watch he thought he heard the 
leaves rustle and saw a limb bend down and sway 
up and down. This was followed by an impres- 
sion of an outline of some object resting on that 
limb, — something shadowy with drapery about it. 
It did not move when he looked again, and he 
thought it was only imagination. 

But casting another glance into the tree now at 
that spot, it was with amazement that he saw the 
limb sway up and down more distinctly than be- 
fore ; he could distinctly hear it creak as it moved. 
The object too moved, plainly moved as he looked. 

Fully determined now to end the mystery, he 
cried out, — 

“ Whoever, whatever you are, come down out 
of that and show yourself !” 

The nerves were a little unsteady, but the voice 
was clear and ringing. 

Clear and ringing came the reply from the 
tree, — 

“I will; it’s awful tiresome up here. You’ll 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 17 

help me down, won’t you ? Although I got up 
all alone, it’s not so easy getting down.” 

“ It’s a girl!” muttered William, too much as- 
tonished to speak aloud. The revulsion of thought 
produced mingled feelings of surprise, anger, and 
disgust. Not the least unpleasant of these feel- 
ings came from the reflection that she must have 
heard everything he said in her perch up on that 
tree. What was she doing there anyway ? It was 
certainly a most unheard-of proceeding, — perfectly 
preposterous. 

But there was small time for consideration of 
the situation or for indulgence in reflections and 
conjectures. William had scarcely began to grum- 
ble and complain before the mass of drapery com- 
menced to sway about and move downwards 
through the foliage. It descended rapidly from 
limb to limb until it rested, a light and airy mass 
of skirts and flounces, on the lowest branch, where 
it revealed dimly through the dusk the flashing 
eyes, smiling face, and full form of a young woman. 
She hung there, holding fast with one hand and 
extending the other downwards, entreatingly, — 

“ Oh, please catch me ; do, — quick !” 

A strong, firm grasp, a jump, a scream, a sudden 
swing from tree to earth, and she stood there be- 
side him, the most substantial and merry ghost that 
ever dropped from a tree; but he nearly let her fall 
in his sudden recognition and astonishment. 
b 2* 


18 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


“ Why, Jennie !” 

“Well?” 

“ Is it possible ?” 

“ Quite possible, William. Please get my hat 
off that twig ; no, the one above that, — there. I 
believe my face is scratched, and my hands are 
sore, I know. Now, if ever I climb a tree again 
I want to be informed, that’s all.” 

“ But ” 

“Now, please don’t; I’m distressed awfully. 
Do let’s go home. How late it’s getting !” 

She took his arm, but he stood still. 

“ Oh, you are not angry ?” 

The question was asked with two beautiful eyes 
peering into his face and a charming mouth near 
his own. She lightly put his hair back from his 
brow with a soft little hand, then, suddenly and 
woman-like, became exceedingly merry. 

“You see,” she went on, innocently, unheeding 
the dark looks of her companion, — perhaps she 
couldn’t see his face plainly, — “you see, I never 
meant to let you know that I was there, and I 
tried hard not to listen or hear what you were 
saying, and I wanted the worst way to be still as 
a mouse, but you stayed so long, and I got so tired, 
and that limb would try to throw me off, and — 
creak, — and — and — so you see I couldn’t help your 
finding me.” 

And the little woman executed such a bewitch- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


19 


ing movement of impatience, and brought her 
fresh face so near her companion’s, and looked 
altogether so sweet under the starlight, that the 
general effect began to tell on her companion. 
He wouldn’t have been a man if it hadn’t told. 
Gradually his frown relaxed and his lips opened, 
— it was clear that she would bring him round. 

“ But,” persisted he, “ what were you doing up 
there? why were you here at all, — here up a tree 
like a monkey ?” 

“Must I tell?” 

That was a poser. However, he decided the 
question in a summary way, — a man’s way. 

“ Yes, you must.” 

“ Well, I climbed it for fun” 

“ For fun ! Climbing trees for fun ; a pretty 
fun that is for a young lady. Jennie, I’m sur- 
prised at you.” 

“ You needn’t be.” 

“ But I am ; really I am.” 

“ Oh, the other girls climbed it too.” 

“ The other girls ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What other girls ?” 

“ Maine Bartlett, Sally Chichester, and Lucy 
Brown ; they ran away and left me on the tree 
when they saw you coming up the road. I think 
it was real mean.” 

“ Oh!” 


20 A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 

“ They shouldn’t have run off, I think.” 

“ No, certainly not.” 

“ And I’m going to tell them what I think, too. 
I do think they were real mean.” 

“ So do I ; and then I kept you up there listen- 
ing to a lot of rubbish for a couple of hours. 
Why, you must be wearied out standing here. 
Come, I’ll take you home. See here, Jennie, look 
in my eyes again as you did a moment ago.” 

“Oh, William!” 

“ Please do.” 

But this really reasonable request was refused. 
An air of embarrassment now seized upon the 
young lady; she walked at his side with bowed 
head in silence. They walked slowly through the 
dark. He looked at her tenderly, and felt every 
charm of her grace and beauty. She, fully con- 
scious that he was looking at her, experienced tile 
joy of being admired ; and so, the normal rela- 
tionship of man and woman being correctly estab- 
lished, they silently passed over the darkened hill 
and down into the straggling village. 

Their thoughts were busy with each other during 
the walk, and the singularity of their meeting was 
forgotten. But when at length they stopped before 
the door of a little cottage shaded by a mammoth 
oak, and she slipped her hand gently from his 
sleeve, the ludicrousness of the situation appealed 
to both at the same instant. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


21 


She bounded up the steps of the porch laugh- 
ing: “I declare it is all too funny for anything; 
I never heard of such a thing before.” 

“ Nor I,” laughed he. “ I’m thinking though 
the girls will plague us; what do you think ?” 

“I don’t care,” she answered, archly, as he tried 
to find the door-latch. “ What did you think of 
me ?” 

“ You ? I think you an angel !” 

u Pshaw ! I mean what did you think I was 
up that tree ?” 

“ Oh, I thought you a ghost ; but what did you 
think I was, — a fool, eh?” 

Her hand was upon the door-latch and her face 
was lifted to his. 

“ No.” 

“ What, then ?” 

She lifted the latch. 

“ A hero ! Good-night.” 

He held her hand one short moment while the 
door was softly opened, kissed it; she entered, and 
the door softly closed against him standing alone 
on the porch. 


CHAPTER II. 


Faust. “ Knowest thou, then, all my wishes?” 

Devil. 11 And will leave them in the consumma- 

tion far behind.” 

Faust. “ How ! If thou wert to hear me to the utter- 
most stars, — to the uppermost part of the uppermost, — 
shall I not bring a human heart along with me, which 
in its wanton wishes will nine times surpass thy flight? 
Learn from me that man requires more than God and 
devil can give.” — Muller's Faust, 

The name William Smith being a very ordi- 
nary and common name it is to be expected that its 
possessor should be a very ordinary and common 
person. And so he is. 

In some respects, it is true, he greatly differed 
from those about him. He seldom exhibited the 
prevalent disposition and general habits of the 
average boy. He never romped in games, never 
played truant, never robbed birds’ nests, never 
went fishing on Sunday, never even pelted the 
bald head of the teacher with paper pellets. I 
fear that he utterly failed to come up to reason- 
able expectations in these and akin pastimes. Per- 
haps he was too obedient and exemplary. He 
was whipped at school once, a severe whipping it 
22 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


23 


was too, but it was because he took the blame 
upon himself really belonging to another and 
suffered in his friend’s stead. A nd that other boy 
stood close by all the while and patiently saw his 
self-sacrificing friend well whipped without open- 
ing his mouth ! 

To the same peculiar disposition might properly 
be attributed some singular habits. Though sickly 
from infancy the boy never complained. He 
came and went bearing his sufferings in silence. 
For himself and his own comfort he cared little. 
His slender figure could be seen day after day 
trudging along the country road to school or 
church in all kinds of weather. It could be seen 
wading through the snow carrying some favorite 
story-book to a sick companion. This exposure 
was general among boys, to be sure, but not gen- 
erally owing to the same motive, — a strong sense 
of duty and the desire to help others. 

It was observable that the boy sought his pleas- 
ures in contemplation, study, and the commenda- 
tion of teacher and friends. He preferred passive 
to active enjoyments. When his comrades played 
boisterously at various games he stood near by 
watching them, but not joining in their sport. In 
the winter-time he caught many a cold in the head 
standing for hours out-doors watching the skaters 
flying over the ice. So also in summer, when 
picnic-parties filled the woods, he would be present, 


24 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


seemingly taking pleasure in the fun of others ; 
but while they were noisy he was quiet, while they 
mingled in companionship he stood aloof, to wan- 
der away, perhaps, at length into the shady grove, 
where alone and buried in reflection, lying on the 
moss, he would play like a child with the pebbles 
and the grass near his hand, while his eyes and 
his thoughts were far away among the clouds 
above the rustling trees. 

When afterwards he grew along into his teens 
his timidity and sensitiveness to observation grew 
yet more pronounced and striking. His nature, 
like a sensitive plant, shrunk from the touch and 
withdrew itself into seclusion. There were occa- 
sions when his modesty dropped from him like a 
garment, — if some good cause was poorly defended 
or decried, or some bad cause well championed and 
upheld, none were so quick to stand up for the 
right, and none so sure to leave a scar on the wrong 
thing. His soul, thoroughly devotional, could 
endure no unjust thing. The good, the true, and 
the beautiful appealed to him trumpet-tongued for 
recognition and vindication everywhere and at all 
times. Thus, from the lisping days of childhood 
through the rugged ways of youth, he grew a 
spiritual soul. 

The boy possessed also a good stock of moral 
courage, a quality somewhat scarce in the world 
in these days. He had that essential element of 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 25 

manhood commonly known and described as back- 
bone. 

Is it possible for a human being to make amends 
for lack of backbone ? 

Modern science has given new proof of man’s 
high destiny by showing that he sprung right up 
from the lowest created object to the highest, — de- 
veloped from the mollusk to the immortal. A 
new science will have to be written to show the 
destiny of a creature who, starting as a man, retro- 
grades to an oyster, — falling from an immortal 
vertebrate to a spineless pulp ! 

Yet it is strictly true that William Smith’s 
reputation in the village at every period of his 
young life was quite unenviable, and, indeed, to 
speak the whole truth at once, it never in later 
and maturer years got much better. In spite of 
the amiable characteristics referred to possessed by 
that young gentleman, in spite of a spirit which 
burnt like a flame when aroused, or, perhaps, 
because of these things, the village conceived a 
palpable dislike for the boy, and consequently his 
companions were unappreciative and his friends 
few. Not that there was any positive persecution 
of the boy or open hostility freely expressed. No- 
body actually hated him; the feeling was rather 
one of indifference, — a sort of disregard of his 
existence. People who took so much trouble as to 
notice him smilingly observed, “ That youngster ’ll 
b 3 


26 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


niver sit the river afire,” thus in one sentence ex- 
pressing an equal contempt for the boy and the 
English grammar. It might be remarked also 
that at the same time a cheerful turn was given to 
gossip by speculations on the probabilities of the 
boy’s early death. The women quietly watched 
him, wondering why he didn’t die. The object 
of this tender solicitude read the question in the 
looks cast on him, — read it in the eyes of the ques- 
tioners as plainly as if they had spoken it. 

“ It’s agin Proverdence thet he surwives wen 
his face is so pale, his chist so narrer, and his 
body so thin,” remarked the sympathizing Matilda 
Johnson. And the irrepressible Matilda imme- 
diately resumed slandering her neighbors, from 
which congenial occupation her astonishment at 
the boy’s persistence in living had temporarily 
diverted her vigorous mind. 

Possibly this treatment was the price exacted 
out of recompense for fine feelings. Nature be- 
stows no gift without demanding compensation. 
Along with every pleasure is linked a pain, with 
every joy a sorrow. To the sensitive spirit of 
the dreaming enthusiast come many miseries all 
through life, none of which are more unpleasant 
and painful than to be misunderstood and un- 
appreciated. 

Colonel Erastus S. Swam pus in forcible diction 
condemned the general judgment. 66 It’s a d — n 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


27 


shame, and you’ll see thet boy make you all sorry 
fur such treatment yet,” said the colonel. But 
as the colonel, though perfectly honest, had un- 
fortunately a bad reputation for truth, his proph- 
ecy was disregarded. The doctor gave an accu- 
rate diagnosis of the colonel’s complaint when 
he said, “ The colonel exhibits premonitory symp- 
toms of telling the truth, but he never actually 
tells it.” 

Certain well-ascertained traits of Mr. Gorham, 
Sr., long known through hard experience, prepared 
William Smith to anticipate a reception from that 
gentleman when he should appear in the store 
next morning. He was not disappointed. 

The store was open, the shutters removed, the 
floor swept, and Gorham & Son’s clerk was ready 
for business. Mr. Gorham had not yet appeared. 
The clerk stood leaning against the door looking 
at the sunrise. 

“ Oh — you’re there — are ye ?” 

It was Mr. Gorham himself. He had come in 
very quietly, — noiselessly, in fact, — and now stood 
two yards away glaring at his clerk as if astonished 
to see him. 

Receiving no reply further than a look of startled 
recognition, he stepped briskly to his desk and there 
renewed the contemplation of his clerk, looking 
over spectacles which were perched on the very 
end of his long nose and momentarily threatened 


28 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


to slip their frail hold. Those spectacles always 
gave the clerk a spasm of nervous chill. 

“ P’ — raps ye’ll deign to extend us — information 
— as to y’r whereabouts last evenin’ ?” began Mr. 
Gorham, satirically. “ P’ — raps it might be well — 
and not too much fur us to ask, — ef not incon — 
venient to ye, — to ask — to ask — what do you mean 
anyhow, eh ?” 

When Mr. Gorham wished to be particularly 
severe he tried to be sarcastic, always beginning 
his remarks in a slow and ponderous bass and 
ending them quickly, and not always intelligibly, 
in a high treble, interspersing in the mean while a 
profusion of plural pronouns along his track of 
speech. Mr. Gorham was called a close man, not 
stingy, — a careful, saving, close man. He had 
been once detected in removing the sugar from the 
feet of a fly which had trespassed in the sugar- 
drawer, so it was reported, and that provident act 
was circulated to the undoing of his fair reputa- 
tion. But whatever might be said of his parsimony 
in all other matters, it was freely confessed that 
in the matter of plural personal pronouns he was 
liberal. 

The effect of Mr. Gorham’s speech upon his 
auditor was not always satisfactory, neither to 
himself nor to the one addressed; it was often 
the exact reverse of what he intended ; just now it 
was ludicrous. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


29 


The clerk restrained himself with difficulty from 
laughing. He turned half-way round and gave 
Mr. Gorham his profile before replying. He spoke 
his uppermost thoughts. 

“ I went on my errand, and — did my work. I 
was unexpectedly detained, and didn’t get back 
till the store was closed.” 

What business of his was it to know of last 
night’s adventure ? None.- He would not have 
told it to him if a thousand lies were necessary to 
keep it from him. The very thought of disclosing 
so sacred a secret to him seemed sacrilegious. 

He turned and looked squarely at Mr. Gorham : 
“ I really did not think I should be wanted here 
last evening, — this morning — or — or any time.” 

The words would come. After having spoken 
them he felt easier ; Mr. Gorham should have the 
truth in one particular at any rate. 

“ Tut, tut, tut, didn’t think !” replied Mr. Gor- 
ham, impatiently. “ You never think. No. You 
don’t care ’bout our interests. Y’r thoughts are 
not given to us. We have not the benefit of ’em. 
No. Ye keep ’em to y’r — self. What d’ — ye 
s’ — pose y’r here fur anyhow, eh?” 

What, indeed? It was a question which the 
clerk had often asked himself and never had been 
able to answer. He could not answer it now. He 
only looked at the metallic face frowning upon 
him. It rose before him horribly like a nightmare 
3 * 


30 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


in dreams. It stood out from all objects like a 
bas-relief in a frame. Abstractedly be watched 
that face, seeing every hard wrinkle in the red 
flesh, looking into the small glittering eyes gleam- 
ing upon him like a snake, contemplating those 
heavy features relieved slightly by the gray locks 
about the large ears, fascinated by the great nose 
holding fast — apparently by some occult magnetism 
— the spectacles which ever threatened to fall. 

Mr. Gorham grew uneasy under the close in- 
spection. He disliked exceedingly being examined 
in that way by his clerk. It suggested the calm 
contemplation by a spectator at an animal show. 

“ I’ll tell you what, Mr. Youngster,” proceeded 
Mr. Gorham, becoming exasperated : “ ye’ll hev 
to have a settlement with us one of these days and 
be well rubbed down fur y’r imperdence; ye’ll 
hev to change them keerless ways o’ yourn. What 
are ye a-staring at, eh ? are ye asleep ? I say ye’ll 
hev to be more lively and spry about the business. 
Ye’ll hev to tend to business better, — read less 
books and wait on more customers. Ye’ll hev to 
work less with y’r mind and more with y’r hands. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! indeed ye will. Ye’ll hev to do y’r 
work prompt and quick, ez ef y’r heart was in it. 
We won’t hevenny more book readin’ in the store 
durin’ business hours, mark it ; no more loiterin’ 
on errands ; no more day dreamin’, — it’s unprofit- 
able, — it’s disagreeable to us. We are determined 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 31 

not to — to submit to it enny longer, and ye’ll hev 
to — to stoppit.” 

And the perspiring Mr. Gorham, having spoken 
his mind, turned snappishly to his ledger and has- 
tily leafed over its pages, lifting his head at an 
angle of forty-five degrees in the effort to see each 
page through the glasses on the end of his nose. 

Mr. Gorham’s clerk recovered his wandering 
thoughts and walked to the end of the store, ar- 
ranging the goods as he went. He said nothing ; 
what was the use? In a mechanical way he went 
about his duty. He leisurely inspected the sugar 
and coffee drawers, the tea and rice canisters ; those 
that needed supply he filled from the stores in the 
cellar. In the same listless manner he stood hard- 
ware before the door to attract customers, — the 
same old pick and shovel, rake and ploughshare 
which had served in such capacity for many a year. 
He journeyed to the garret by easy stages of de- 
liberate steps and brought thence some needed lots 
of ready-made clothing, which he displayed in fresh 
packages in the store. The regular announcement 
by placard on these occasions of “a new arrival of 
fresh goods just received” was a bit of mercantile 
fiction which sat lightly on the Gorham conscience. 
It was not altogether fiction, either, for certainly 
the goods had in fact “ newly arrived” and were 
“fresh” — from the garret. Having finished his 
work for the time being, the clerk took his seat on 


32 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


a nail-keg near the window and looked out into 
the quiet street. 

It was a charming morning. The shadow of 
the store lay far across the street, lapping the lawn 
in the town square. The air came cool and exhil- 
arating through the open window, — the birds twit- 
tering in the trees bordering the pavement. The old 
road over the hill, travelled yesterday, was plainly 
visible, its white sand shining, in the morning sun. 
It seemed to beckon and say, “Come with me 
over the hills and far away to other scenes and 
another life ; come and enjoy happier days !” 

Suddenly the current of the clerk’s thoughts 
changed. He became sensibly conscious that he 
wanted breakfast. At the same moment another 
idea impressed him. He knew that he was watched. 
He had not moved : he could not see into the store ; 
he did not turn, but he felt, plainly felt that Mr. 
Gorham was looking at him. When he did turn 
he caught Mr. Gorham’s eye bent upon him. 

“ We s’ — pose now thet ye didn’t curry the horse 
this mornin’, eh ?” queried Mr. Gorham. 

“ No, sir ; not yet.” 

u Um ! no ; we thought so. Well, arter ye are 
quite rested, when y’r fatigue is past, and ye no 
longer suffer from y’r over-exertion and severe 
labors, maybe ye might ez well — as well curry 
him, — thet is, of course, ef y’r not too tired or — 
or lazy.” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


33 


And Mr. Gorham smiled in a way that sug- 
gested cramps as the clerk sauntered out of the 
store. As the door closed his parting injunction 
was heard, — 

“ And be sure thet ye curry his belly well.” 

And this was the way the day opened. 

And so and so and so went on the struggle, ever 
renewed, never ceasing, day after day through all 
the weary years, — the old struggle of a human soul 
battling with the ever real in vain strivings to 
attain the unattainable ideal. 

I fear that very little breakfast was eaten by the 
clerk that morning, very little work done that day. 
The demon of unrest was busy in that hot young 
breast conjuring up a host of lesser demons to tor- 
ment him. They whispered dissatisfaction while 
he measured the calico or weighed the sugar ; they 
prompted aggressiveness as he counted eggs or 
drew molasses ; they inspired the sweetest satisfac- 
tion in the simple acts of punching holes in mack- 
erel and leaving the vinegar faucet open. Thus 
the day passed. 

The evening found him at his favorite spot for 
revery and dreams. How often had he been there 
in the summer days long since gone? It was 
that greenest hill, back of the village sloping 
towards the narrow road that skirted its base, on 
which he rested yesterday. There he repaired as 
the sun went down. Lying there on the grass 


34 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


under the shade of the oak, overpowered by tur- 
bulent emotions, he watched the birds circling in 
the purple sky, the creeping teams crawling snail- 
like in the dusty road, the shallow river slipping 
like threads of silver between the islands and 
through the gates of the mountains. In other 
times the scene gave him pleasure; of late it only 
made him miserable. It was plain that its power 
to charm was gone. Nay, it fed the flame that he 
would extinguish. For lying there, seeing all that 
peacefulness and quiet, his thought flew dove-like 
away to the great active world so close about him 
and yet unseen and unknown, containing the great 
cities and the grand life of men, of which he knew 
so little and yearned to know all. A great longing 
for that great world seized upon his soul. It took 
possession of him, rising within him like a sob, 
until he could no longer endure the sight of the 
lazy calm of nature. Everything around him, all 
the beauty of meadow, hill, and stream, oppressed 
him with the everlasting sameness of creation. He 
could not stay there. Rising excitedly and hastily 
striding over the hill, he took his swift way through 
the twilight down into the village, resolved once 
for all to find a way, some way, out of it, — out of 
it into that magnificent world and life beyond 
those mountains, to do great deeds there and make 
a name to be trumpeted round the Avorld. 


CHAPTER III. 


“ When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are 
green, 

And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen, 

Then heigh for boot and horse, lad, and round the world 
away,— 

Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog 
his day.” — Kingsley. 

Into the question of the merit of a human 
being must ever enter that other inquiry as to his 
opportunity. If opportunity has been great the 
merit of achievement is correspondingly small; 
if small the merit is great. 

Thus, too, the better qualities of a person, such 
as are acknowledged to be just, noble, grand, are 
rarely such because of their abstract excellence 
when separated from the possessor, but are so 
designated and really earn their dignity because 
possessed by that particular person. 

Of William Smith it could well be said that he 
owed nothing to training, education, or the influ- 
ence of and association with the people. If there 
was any good at all in him it sprung spontaneously 
out of the nature God had given him. His youth- 
ful education as well as his associations never did 
him a scintilla of benefit, physically, mentally, or 

35 


36 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


morally. The direct opposite was the result. 
From childhood up his life was a hard battle with 
the world, — a severe struggle against the cruellest 
adverse circumstances. 

It was under the pressure of his later restless 
moments that he remembered all the dreary period 
of his childhood with a newer pang of sorrow. 

Often the past like a moving picture unrolled 
before his mind, until he saw with startling vivid- 
ness all the prominent experiences of his life : how, 
when he was only two years of age, his father died, 
and he, poor boy, was left to the sole care of his 
mother, a poor woman obliged to earn her own and 
her child’s support with her needle upon the tailor’s 
bench ; how, at six years of age, owing to the ac- 
cession of a stepfather to the little family, he at- 
tained to that anomalous position in the household 
of being placed out-doors, — a trying situation for 
one of his tender years ; how, for the next eight 
uneventful years, he lived with his grandfather in 
the country, — the country, where the air and good 
victuals are alike rare, — where, segregated from 
congenial companionship and denied the needs 
of a growing child, he passed a melancholy 
life. How well he remembered all this now! 
How well he remembered the dreary void of 
life in that country home, where no lessons of 
counsel and encouragement from parents or friends 
ever came ; where no mother’s love was ever told 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


37 


and no mother’s kindness ever known ! In all 
the weary waste of that perished period of time 
he had never knelt at his mother’s knee. To 
say that he had been raised was to perpetrate an 
aggravated solecism ; he had grown, simply grown , 
— grown wild and rank like a weed, as neglected 
and about as useless. 

And yet it seemed to him that all else might 
have been forgiven had not his schooling been 
neglected. To deny to him education, that thing 
of all things most necessary, seemed a piece of 
gratuitous cruelty bordering on the brutal. 

His schooling began when he was ten years old, 
and for three years thereafter he attended school, 
— a continuous term altogether of one year and a 
half in a backwoods school, distributed through 
three months of summer and three months of win- 
ter during each year. The instruction thus re- 
ceived taught him to spell, read, write, and to 
solve the simpler problems of arithmetic. This 
was deemed all-sufficient. For when his mind 
began to develop to understanding, and tuition 
became most needful because knowledge was easier 
understood and better remembered, it was discov- 
ered by those who called themselves his friends 
that he was of a proper age to care for himself by 
earning his own living. And thus it was that the 
school-house closed its doors upon him and the 
store opened its doors to him. 


38 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


As the tender leaves of the plant reach out for 
the sunshine so the soul of the boy reached out 
through all those dark years for sympathy, — 
reached out and was denied. 

And now a country store is to become the arena 
of his efforts and form the foundation of his worldly 
fortune; its close and lowly walls are to shut in 
and confine his spirit, and its dull, incessant, and 
belittling duties to claim the strong activities of 
his young life. 

He sat behind the counter one day thinking of 
this prospect. How dreadful it looked ! 

With a sort of resistless fascination he gazed 
on the picture presented to his mind as it wound 
and unwound, twisted and untwisted itself like a 
serpent horrible to the sight and poisoning the air 
with its breath. 

The picture went on unfolding. 

He shall have no other life but this. He shall 
work daily from early dawn till late at night at 
uncongenial labor; he shall not sleep, — the sweet- 
est slumbers shall be broken every morning before 
the dawn of day by the shrill call of an impera- 
tive master; he shall scrub, dust, and sweep, like 
a maid-of-all-work ; he shall run errands and fetch 
and carry, like any other servant ; he shall worry, 
fret, and fume, and strive for release in vain ; he 
shall get reproofs, and be obliged to be patient 
under indignities; he shall exhaust his strength 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


39 


and kill his soul with this abominable work 
through the coining years as he had been doing 
through the past three years, for what ? — his board 
and clothes ! 

Why, this was slavery ! 

And could he ever become a man by such 
means ? 

Never. 

It was impossible. 

But he would become a man in spite of it all ; 
ay, in spite of everything. 

He rose to his feet and walked up and down the 
store reflecting. Could he devise any means to get 
away? That was the only remedy. He must 
somehow get away. The prospect was truly dis- 
couraging. He had no friends to help him. 
There was no promise for him anywhere. He 
possessed a total capital of thirty dollars with 
which to begin life. What could he do and how 
should he do it ? 

The store was deserted by customers and he was 
alone. Out upon the lawn a bevy of little chil- 
dren played. The sun was sinking on golden 
pillows in the west, the crest of the hills outlined 
like a red flame against the streaked sky. 

Suddenly he paused in his walk. He had 
reached a resolve. It was a brave one. He made 
it hesitatingly at first, but the more he examined 
and tested it the more he desired to carry it out. 


40 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


He would go to New York City. He would go 
there and work and toil for success, — going as lie 
had read that grand soul Horace Greeley went, 
a strange, uncouth, uneducated country boy, with- 
out means or friends. He would, like him, so 
labor and learn, so advance and prosper, that in 
time all that which the world calls success would 
be his. He was resolved. 

When to go? how to break the news to his em- 
ployers ? whether, or not, he would be brought 
back if he ran away ? and what to do when he 
got to New York? — these were all pregnant in- 
quiries present to his mind, together with others, 
and extremely difficult to settle. Still, he held to 
his resolve. 

Time wore on. The harvests were gathered. 
The warm summer days were slowly shading into 
autumn and the nights were getting cold. From 
the trees the green drapery had disappeared, and 
now the slender branches bared themselves to 
nakedness as they dropped withered and dying 
their brown, russet, and golden leaves. 

There was to be a picnic in the woods, in the 
great grove back of the village, all the Sunday- 
schools participating. The children were mar- 
shalled on the lawn of the town-square early in 
the day and drilled, then started, in a curious 
procession, marching through the streets to the 
music of fife and drum, and so back over the hills 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


41 


and down into the welcome old woods. The vil- 
lage took a holiday to witness the sight. It was 
interesting because the families were few that did 
not have a child or two somewhere in the ranks. 
The march was orderly enough through the 
village and for some distance beyond/ but on 
nearing the woods the natural instinct prevailed 
over propriety, and the children broke ranks 
without orders, and forthwith played the un- 
tamed colt. Thenceforth throughout the day the 
woods rang with their happy voices and the hill- 
side echoed back the joyful noise. Of course, the 
edibles disappeared rapidly. The lemonade more 
rapidly. The ice-cream seemed to have strangely 
shrunk in quantity — in quality perhaps it could 
not — in the transportation, so quickly and so 
surely did it vanish. The swings swung, the 
dancers danced, and the players played through 
the happy day. There was joy for the children 
in every hour, and the evening came all too soon. 

A pretty group of grown and half-grown girls 
stood conversing in the shadow of a tent under a 
leafy tree. The tallest and fairest was telling her 
companions something amusing, for they laughed. 
How handsome she looked, her face all aglow 
with excitement and pleasure ! Tall, dark-eyed, 
red-cheeked, possessing the form of Juno and an 
expression like Diana, she stood there in the ex- 
uberance of her girlish charms the very picture 
4 * 


42 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


of a village beauty. She seemed scarcely sixteen ; 
although her abundant hair, black as the night, 
and a fully-developed figure betokened the woman. 
The sun shining through a rift in the foliage cov- 
ered her for a moment, lighted up her motionless 
figure, and she shone like an angel. 

The distinguished title of “the belle of the vil- 
lage” had been by common consent bestowed upon 
Jennie Carey, and she had borne that weighty 
honor for several years ; but, whether because of 
its questionable merit or by reason of modesty, 
the young lady herself thought little of the title. 
Still, while blessed with this distinction, she had 
never before presented so charming an appear- 
ance. She was dressed sensibly for a picnic, 
and wore a plain white muslin dress looped 
up just enough to give her feet a chance in 
the woods, and at the same time, I fear, to ar- 
tistically display an embroidered petticoat and 
suggest a neat foot and ankle. Her hair hung 
down about her pretty rounded shoulders confined 
only by the restraint of a narrow crimson ribbon. 
In her hand she held a dainty bit of a straw hat, 
and as she stood playfully caressing the fresh 
roses among its ribbons her long dark eyelashes 
swept her cheeks. When she looked up her com- 
panions were gone, and she was standing there 
under the trees alone. 

Aimlessly, perhaps, she turned and wandered 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


43 


away, still deeper and deeper into the shadows of 
the woods, till she reached a great green mound 
covered with moss under the spreading branches 
of a monster maple. There she threw herself 
recumbent on the moss and looked down through 
the serried ranks of trees upon the playing children. 
"Tired, Jennie?” 

The voice was musical and low, but it was so 
close to her ear that she was startled into an 
exclamation of surprise. 

“ Tired, Jennie ?” 

Turning quickly, she met the glance of the 
intruder. But it was a pleasant look, — a not un- 
welcome presence that she saw. 

" Why, William, how you frightened me !” 

"Did" I?” 

" Indeed, you did. You came so quiet, — and 
suddenly. Won’t you sit down ? It’s a delightful 
spot, isn’t it ?” 

" It is, indeed.” 

There is a transforming power in love that 
changes all things to its own color and into sweet- 
est accord and sympathy with itself. If love be 
there even the desert will blossom like the rose! 

That wild and tangled collection of brush and 
trees had never before possessed any special marks 
of attractiveness ; it was only an old forest. Now 
it teemed with sylvan charms. 

It was a beautiful place certainly, to judge by 


44 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


the sparkling eyes that looked down the vista and 
returned delighted to her. 

Jennie felt the roses in her cheeks grow a deeper 
red under that look, grow crimson as her com- 
panion threw himself on the moss by her side and 
looked lovingly up into her face, saying, — 

“ Jennie, I love you !” 

She bowed her head but did not reply. 

He continued : “ I believe I have loved you for 
a year, — ever since our meeting at camp. You re- 
member. And I thought” (taking her hand) “ we 
both loved each other, ever since that day and 
night on the hill over there when you clung to 
me and looked into my eyes with your soul.” 

Another pause. 

The voice went on: u Do you love me, Jen- 
nie ?” 

“ Yes, William, I do.” 

After her reply there was an embarrassing si- 
lence. She felt that he had released her hand and 
dropped his gaze from her face. They began 
plucking moss in a preoccupied way, she arrang- 
ing the bits into pretty shapes in her hand, he 
throwing them aside as lie gathered them. 

The day was nearly spent. The west was glow- 
ing with purple and gold flecked with silver 
clouds. The children’s laughter came musically 
up the hollows, and their variedly-hued dresses 
fluttered butterfly-like here and there through the 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


45 


woods. From the distant road came the mel- 
lowed tones of cow-bells as the cows were driven 
home. 

“Jennie/* at length abruptly spoke the voice 
at her side, “ I am going away soon, — away to 
New York. I may not return for many years, 
perhaps never, God knows! But I shall always 
love you, Jennie. And if I asked you now to 
promise me here in these old woods to remain 
true to me when I am away, would you do it ? 
Will you promise to wait my return — and be 
my wife ?” 

Her eyelids had lifted in surprise. Wonder 
and pain struggled in the dewy depths of her 
eyes. Tears were surely gathering there. 

“Going away, William !” she exclaimed, look- 
ing up into his face earnestly. “ Going away ! 
Why, you never spoke of this before !” 

She expected an explanation and paused, but, 
as none was offered, she continued, — 

“ If you are only trying my love, William, be 
satisfied, for it will hold fast and true through 
every trial to the end; or are — are you really in 
earnest ?” 

His face expressed determination : “As much 
in earnest as I ever was in all my life.” 

“And so you will go?” 

She stood close to him, both having risen now; 
tenderly she looked at him; tenderly she felt 


46 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOD 


her hair smoothed by his caressing hand as he 
spoke, — 

“ Yes, dear one, I must go. I have long felt 
that there is no opportunity for me in the village, 
and the sooner I go the better. I could not leave 
without telling you, but I kept it back till the 
last to escape the pain. I start in a couple of days. 
I wish to carry with me your love and encourage- 
ment. There, don’t cry! You will give me 
both, won’t you ?” 

But her answer came not in words. Her head 
was bowed down, and sobs choked the words she 
would have spoken. She extended her hand, felt 
the warm grasp that closed upon it, and let it 
remain there. 

“ This, then, is mine ?” he asked, caressing her 
hand and trying to meet her eyes. “ Mine to 
have and keep ?” 

She looked up at him solemnly : “ Yours to 
have and keep forever !” 

And the tears she brushed away, the sobs con- 
trolled, as she raised her eyes to his, — tender tear- 
stained eyes, but brave, passionate eyes, full of 
the fire of womanly truth, full of the glory of 
womanly devotion. 

And so was the promise given to love each 
other always, and to be true and constant, what- 
ever might befall, wherever he and she might be, 
for evermore. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


47 


They left not the woods till twilight enveloped 
them in its steel-colored folds and the voice of na- 
ture was silent as the stars ; then arm in arm they 
journeyed homeward, filled with the strength of 
youth and the hopeful thoughts that never grow old. 

But while this scene was in progress in the 
woods there was another scene, not so pleasant, 
in preparation in the village. The setting of 
this scene was the store of Gorham & Son. 
Those two worthies in a little private caucus held 
in the course of the day had developed a plan by 
which to administer a wholesome lesson to a cer- 
tain youth who had so far forgotten himself as to 
abandon business for pleasure, for the time being, 
without the formality of permission from his em- 
ployers ; indeed, without even asking permission. 
Such conduct was so reprehensible and ungrateful, 
especially in one who was so deeply indebted for 
favors at their hands, that it deserved rebuke, and 
they meant to correct it. 

“We’r out of patience, we think, with mild 
measures in the manage — ment of this youngster,” 
remarked Mr. Gorham, Sr., to Mr. Gorham, Jr., 
as they sat together in the little back-office behind 
the store, “ and it really looks ez ef more strin — 
gent means were required to — to — to curb him. 
Why, bless my soul ! he does just ez he pleases. 
What do you think now I saw him doin’ yister- 
day, — saw him doin’ with my own eyes, eh ?” 


48 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


Mr. Gorham, Jr., languidly pulling the hairs 
out of one of his whiskers, — which habit per- 
sistently followed for a long time past had left 
that particular whisker very sparse of hair whilst 
its fellow was quite luxuriant, — Mr. Gorham, 
Jr., with marked deference of manner, couldn’t 
imagine. It would doubtless have proven diffi- 
cult to guess. 

“ Why, ez we’re alive and talkin’ together this 
blessed minnit, I actually saw him a-readin’ 
‘ Eugene Aram.’ ” 

Mr. Gorham, Sr., here raised his head at an 
angle of forty-five degrees, and looked at Mr. 
Gorham, Jr., through the wonderful spectacles 
perched on the very end of his nose. 

“To think,” pursued Mr. Gorham, Sr., “thet 
he should hev set there in the store ez easy like ez 
ef he owned the whole business readin’ a novel, 
and a customer liken’ at enny moment to drop 
in !” 

The contemplation of this dreadful contingency 
gave Mr. Gorham, Sr., such a turn that his spec- 
tacles wellnigh dropped from the end of his nose. 
However, as that had never happened, perhaps it 
never would or could. 

“What shall we do to curb him?” practically 
inquired Mr. Gorham, Jr. 

“ We hardly know, — do we, eh ?” remarked 
Mr. Gorham, Sr., inquiringly. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


49 


“ Why, as to that,” continued Mr. Gorham, Jr., 
“ we need only to provide for every emergency as 
it arises. .Now, suppose we rein him in hard, 
jerk him up short, as it were, and give him a 
course of hard labor.” 

“ Good !” agreed Mr. Gorham, Sr. 

“ A good, substantial discipline and curriculum 
of labor,” pursued Mr. Gorham, Jr., gravely and 
learnedly. 

“ Just so,” assented Mr. Gorham, Sr., without 
clearly knowing what it was that constituted a 
curriculum, whether a figure of speech or a wild 
animal. But as the word was used by Mr. Gor- 
ham, J r., it was unquestionably correct, and meant 
the right thing whatever it was, and therefore he 
meant not to bother about it. 

“Now, egg-washing,” continued Mr. Gorham, 
Jr., reflectively, “is a steady occupation, and 
rather tiresome though it be done sitting ; I would 
suggest that he be put at that to begin with. He 
might be kept at that employment all night. 
Having used the day for his own pleasures he 
ought, I think, give us his services to-night.” 

Mr. Gorham, Sr., exhibited an extravagant de- 
light at the suggestion. His red face shone with 
pleasure and his little eyes twinkled with joy. He 
rubbed his hands. 

“An excellent idea! You’ve a head — a head, 
sir, you hev’. He shall wash eggs all night, 
c d 5 


50 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


Ila ! ha ! ha ! all night ! There’s three barrels wait- 
in’ fur market, and he shall wash ’em to-night.” 

And the conference broke up. 

The store had not closed, late as it was when 
Gorham & Son’s clerk returned. Mr. Gorham, Sr., 
sat behind his desk reading a newspaper, his 
spectacles threatening to fall from his nose. His 
greeting was quite hilarious. 

“ Hello! got back, eh? Had a good time? 
We’re real glad to know thet ye enjoyed yerself. 
Fine day, too, fur re — creation an’ pleasure? We 
s’pose now ye’r tired, — good bit tired, eh?” 

The clerk honestly confessed that he was tired, 
very tired. He would have confessed much more 
just then, even to Mr. Gorham, Sr., hard a man 
as he was, if he had received the least encourage- 
ment, — confessed without encouragement, indeed, 
save for what followed. 

“ Why, then, we’re sorry,” went on Mr. Gor- 
ham, Sr. “ There is a little job of work we wanted 
done to-night, an’ we hoped that you could do it.” 

“ What is it?” asked the clerk. 

“ Wash them eggs in the cellar.” 

Without a word the clerk descended to the 
cellar. It was only a labor which he had often 
performed, and there was only a day or two more 
at best to suffer through. The work was detested 
and detestable. It was a process by which, through 
the use of vinegar and a flannel cloth, eggs, good, 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


51 


bad, and indifferent, — if such a thing as an indif- 
ferently good egg exists, — became as white as snow. 
It was a particularly favorite device of Gorham 
& Son, designed to deceive the city dealer and in- 
crease the profit on eggs, and was apparently 
successful in both objects. Cai bono f 

Resignedly the clerk addressed himself to his 
work. Just then he would have done much more 
disagreeable work without complaint, though what 
more disagreeable task were possible to him he 
could not conceive, unless it was to love Mr. Gor- 
ham, Sr. 

Yet it so happened that all his calm reserve was 
overthrown and his patient obedience turned to 
unreasoning rage by an unexpected circumstance. 

He had been at work perhaps an hour, and was 
thinking of quitting and going to bed, when Mr. 
Gorham, Sr., and Mr. Gorham, Jr., came down 
the cellar-steps and quietly paused beside him. 

“ How goes it, eh ?” considerately inquired Mr. 
Gorham, Sr. 

“ We have come to say,” interrupted Mr. Gor- 
ham, Jr., without waiting for a reply, “that the 
store is now closed, and we are about to retire. 
You will probably be kept at work till morning, 
for I perceive that there are still two barrels of 
eggs to treat to-night. If you should get through 
before daylight, please — please have the kindness 
to lock the cellar-door. Good-night.” 


52 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


And Mr. Gorham, Jr., having delivered him- 
self in this amiable manner, languidly turned and 
stopped at the cellar-steps, with one hand pulling 
out his whisker and one foot beating time on the 
lower step. 

“ Why, you don’t expect me to stop here all 
night ?” 

The clerk looked up in astonishment as he asked 
the question. He looked at Mr. Gorham, Jr., 
standing there complacently pulling at his whisker. 
He looked at Mr. Gorham, Sr., who was leisurely 
contemplating him through the spectacles on the 
very end of his nose. He looked at the barrels, 
hogsheads, kegs, and bags about him. He looked 
at the tub filled with eggs beside him, — at the 
flannel cloth in his hand. Then he looked again 
at Mr. Gorham, Sr., as that gentleman spoke. 

“ And why not ?” queried Mr. Gorham, Sr. 

There was something overpoweringly sarcastic 
in the tone, something inexpressibly cunning in 
the eye of Mr. Gorham, Sr., as he asked the ques- 
tion and then turned towards the stairs. 

“ Night is ez good a time ez enny other to 
work,” continued Mr. Gorham, Sr., standing on 
the steps and preparing to mount. “ We know 
thet ye’ll work well — arter the pleasures of the 
day. Good-night !” 

The clerk rose to his feet as if on springs. A 
groan of pious consternation came from Mr. Gor- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


53 


ham, Jr., an exclamation of horror from Mr. Gor- 
ham, Sr., causing his spectacles to lose their grip 
on the end of his nose and fall rattling to the 
earth, as the clerk forcibly thrust his foot into 
that tub of eggs with the emphatic exclamation, — 
“No; Fm d — d if I will! You and your 
eggs may go to h — 1 ! Vm going away !” 


5 * 


. 1 

CHAPTER IV. 

(i Over mountain, and plain, and stream, 

To some bright Atlantic bay, 

With our arms aflash in the morning beam, 

We hold our festal way ; 

With our arms aflash in the morning beam 
We hold our checkless way.” — H alpine. 

Morning- sat throned upon the mountains. 
A flood of glory quivered on the river, spread in 
mellow waves of gold over hills and fields, and 
crept, soft as the sigh of a child, into the shadowy 
woods. It was the smile of Nature breaking over 
the garden of God ! 

The shade still lay along the base of the moun- 
tain and stretched afar into the river, covering in 
its path the long track of iron rails over which 
the early morning passenger-train came shrieking. 
Like a flash it came, stopped a moment, passed, 
and was gone. Long after it had turned the 
point of the mountain five miles away blue puffs 
of smoke still lazily curled up the mountain-side, 
dissolved in the air, and disappeared. 

The peaceful country scenes about Slopingdale 
were soon left behind as the train flew swiftly 
along its iron track across the country down to 
54 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


55 


the sea. Philadelphia was reached at noon, and 
the customary stoppage of “ twenty minutes for 
refreshments” followed. Then slowly the train 
pursued its course, leisurely winding its way over 
the Jersey marshes, past numerous nurseries, 
through incipient villages, — slowly, as though all 
effort were hopeless and all hope effortless, at last 
crawled into Jersey City. The sun was sinking 
in the lower bay as the last car rumbled noisily 
into the long, straggling depot. Then a thousand 
passengers, tired and dusty, disembarked, swarmed 
like flies upon the platform, and walked briskly 
towards the near North River Ferry. In a 
moment the gates were opened, and the multi- 
tude poured through and passed down to the edge 
of the wharf. 

It is a pleasant sight to see the noble Hudson 
with the shipping of a score of nations, with the 
gay-colored flags at mast-head resting on its broad 
bosom ! The sun is shining on the heights of Ho- 
boken, where Louis Napoleon once lived when only 
an adventurer on the earth. To the right the river 
widens into the broad bay and harbor of New York. 
Across the river, straight in front, lies the great 
metropolis far extended on the horizon, its long 
line of docks filled with a thousand vessels, and 
its countless church-spires sparkling in the even- 
ing sky. What a mighty city ! 

If the sights are confusing so are the noises. 


56 A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 

There is a freshness, freedom, and breadth in all 
the surroundings. One needs to have sharp eyes 
and ears though to catch all the details of the 
scene and the action ; also a dexterity of body to 
get out of the way of something or somebody. 
As the six-o’clock whistles sound the hour the 
workmen leave their labor and hurry home. The 
sailors are singing songs and furling sails ; the 
steamers are whistling and ringing bells ; the great 
ferry-boats are passing, — how they careen and roll, 
puff and blow, the pilots ringing the signal-bells 
incessantly! Another train rumbles into the depot; 
teams crowd down to the front of the pier, a med- 
ley lot of carriages, express-wagons, trucks, and 
baggage-carts; and with the departing sun sinking 
in the harbor comes the dull boom of a cannon- 
shot fired from the distant fort to mark the hour 
of sunset. 

How all this movement of active life and en- 
ergy contrasts with the lazy sloth and peace of 
other scenes in the mind of the slender youth 
leaning there against the railing and looking 
thoughtfully over the chain ! The things he sees 
are all beautiful, the sounds he hears all mu- 
sical. Everything seems to say to him, “ This is 
the land of promise, the Beulah land fair to the 
sight as the prospects of youth.” It is a grand 
moment, and his heart swells as he looks. 

But why doesn’t the ferry-boat come? Cer- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


57 


tainly this delay cannot be usual. The thorough- 
going, enterprising people of New York would 
hardly submit to it. Boats are numerous enough ; 
they are coming in and going out, passing and re- 
passing on either side, still none stop at this wharf 
where the multitude of people stand waiting. It 
is a wonderfully patient multitude under the cir- 
cumstances, — everybody takes it coolly. There 
is no complaint made, no impatience seen in the 
crowd. 

What a commotion in the waves ! what a tre- 
mendous swell immediately in front of the wharf! 
The river must be very deep, quite different from 
the shallow Susquehanna. Can this be a floating 
wharf? What means that movement underneath? 
Surely, the wharf is shaking, — shaking with a 
rumbling tremble from stem to stern as though 
an earthquake were at work beneath ! And how 
is this? Is not the city coming into plainer view? 
Are not the streets and houses and people grow- 
ing clearer, larger, better defined ? Are not the 
vessels in the docks nearer ? 

“ Well, here I’ve been on a ferry-boat all the 
while, and never knew I had left the other side 
till Fm half-way across the river!” 

Thus to himself mused William Smith, casting 
a swift glance upward and backward, and noticing 
the man at the wheel and the long trail of white 
froth in the wake of the vessal. 


58 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


It was quite true. The boat moored to the float- 
ing pier, or wharf, had seemed to be a part of it, 
and he had crossed the connection without per- 
ceiving that he had boarded the boat, and so stood 
there at tlve bow of the boat thinking it the wharf. 
Standing there fully a quarter of an hour, he was 
unconsciously conveyed tolhe opposite shore while 
waiting the arrival of the boat on which he stood. 
Had it been night, or had he been preoccupied 
during the passage, he might have experienced the 
singular sensation of stepping from the Jersey pier 
into New York without crossing the river at all. 

In reflecting upon his mistake his conduct 
made him ashamed. He smiled at his stupidity. 
“ No wonder the people seemed patient ! They 
know their business, and I will have to learn 
mine,” he observed. 

Soon enough the occasion came for self-con- 
gratulation on account of an act of sense. Having 
taken the precaution while still on the cars to 
send his trunk to a hotel selected long before, he 
was fortunately foot-free, and practically already 
lodged on landing in the city. He, therefore, 
rather composedly ran the gauntlet of a string 
of greasy, noisy, and vile hackmen, formed in line 
down the street and compelling passengers to en- 
dure their indignities, to the terror of those who 
had never met that animal before and the disgust 
of those who had. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 59 

“ ’Ere’s yer St. Nicholas, right up !” “ This way 
for Metropolitan Ho — tel l” “ Yar fur de Fifth 
Avenoo l” “ Coach for Astor House !” “ Baggage 
for the Brevoort; step in !” “Get out of the way! 
Does the gentleman want a carriage, — a carriage 
to any part of the city ?” “ Now, then, look sharp 
there er I’ll run over yer !” “ The Occi — den — tal 
Ho — tel here!” “’Ere’s yer St. Nicholas! right 
up !” “ This coach for the Clarendon !” “ Carriage, 
— carriage, sir ?” “ Bight yar fur de Fifth Av — 
ee — noo !” 

“ This gentleman is goin’ to ” hesitated one 

of the human jackal tribe, seizing his man by the 
arm and trying to press him towards a carriage. 

“He arift agom* your way!” brokenly piped a 
shrill fellow-jackal, as he seized the man by the 
other arm. “ Right this way, sur ; close carriage, 
sur ; this wav !” 

Leaving the crowd right and left, elbowing a 
way through the babel of confused tongues, 
passing right on up the street, William had nearly 
reached safety when his attention was drawn to 
the gentleman and his persecutors, and he stopped. 
An idea struck him. 

“ Carriage here !” he cried out. 

At once the harpies released the man they had 
hold of, and he went on up the street. 

“Here’s yer carriage, sir; carriage this way, 
sur ; come, sir, carriage ready, sir !” 


60 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


And the two jackal gentlemen, reinforced by a 
couple of their fellows, surrounded William at 
once. 

But he strode on. His hotel was on Cortlandt 
Street, and only a block away. He was not 
afraid. 

. “ Yer called fur a carriage,” began one. 

“ An’ you’ll have to pay for it,” said the second. 

“ Come down now ; ride or pay,” added a third. 

There was an awkward pause. They were 
crowding about him and hustling him from side 
to side. He must speak to them. 

“ Gentlemen, you must allow that I can’t ride 
in more than one carriage at a time. Now, which 
shall it be ? Settle it among yourselves.” 

“ Mine, then.” 

“No; mine, of course; didn’t I see the gen- 
tleman first ?” 

“But didn’t I hear him first? Answer that 
now.” 

“ He goes with me, sir, an’ not with aytlier of 
ye.” 


“ No, blame me ! but that he sha’n’t.” 
“ Fur I got hold uv ’im first.” 

“ You didn’t.” 

“ I say, sir, I did.” 

“ You lie !” 

“What?” 


While the two began fighting two others stopped 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


61 


to see the fight, and only one accompanied his 
man now along the pavement. He was game to 
the last. 

“ It's my carriage that’ll take you, sir.” 

The steps of the hotel were at hand, and his 
lawful prey began to ascend them. Should he 
lose his man after all ? 

“ I’m afraid I cannot ride with you, for I stop 
here,” said the voice from the steps. 

The hackman hesitated. He struggled with 
feelings incapable of expression. Suddenly he 
blurted out, — 

“ D — n you ! go to the devil !” 

But as he turned on his heel he heard the voice 
from the top of the steps. 

“ Good-night,” said the voice. “ I thank you 
for the invitation, but from what I’ve seen of you 
to-night I have no desire to make the acquaint- 
ance of your relatives .” 

Passing speedily from the bath to the dining- 
hall, and from the dining-hall after a light supper 
into the street, William soon found himself an in- 
terested observer of New York at night. Within 
a dozen rods Broadway ran, and in a few minutes 
he turned into that famous thoroughfare and was 
lost in the stream of people that flowed, surged, 
and poured along the wide pavement. Brilliantly 
lighted, crowded with people, the great street 
glowed with life and activity, its strong pulse 


62 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


beating responsive chords to the throbbing of the 
city’s mighty heart. 

It was a new sensation of delight to observe all 
this, and to be carried along in the press of that 
crowd like a log among logs in the river. The 
contact with men, the light, the gayety, and the 
energy thrilled through and through the nerves 
of the spectator. The step became more buoyant, 
the eye brighter, the heart cheerier. 

There was a band playing stirring airs from a 
balcony. Underneath it the words, written in 
lighted lamps, “ Barnum’s Museum,” sparkled and 
shone. It was the work of a moment to cross the 
street along with the policeman who piloted a safe 
passage among the teams and omnibuses and to 
stop before the museum. Upon the bulletin-board 
a bill announced a dramatic performance of the 
great, unexampled, and truly extraordinary play 
of “ The Gasher of the Gulch,” by that world- 
renowned combination and star troupe of actors 
and actresses, the great, unexampled, and truly 
extraordinary . . . . . . , 

who for the first time appear in New York through 
the strenuously persuasive influence of that public 
philanthropist, Mr. P. T. Barnum, and the guar- 
anteed payment of one thousand dollars each every 
night, and expenses, etc. 

The play-bill was attractive. The open door- 
way stood wide and inviting. The blazing cal- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


63 


cium-light shed a demoniacal glow lip and down 
the street, making all the scene magical. The 
music rose patriotically in the air from the bal- 
cony. The bulletin-board pointed up-stairs with 
seductive grace. Confronted by all these persua- 
sive influences, William Smith forgot his small 
store of money, or at least cared not for its small- 
ness. Approaching the ticket-window, he handed 
in a half-dollar, received a ticket of admission to 
paradise, and proudly marched up-stairs to a feast 
of joy. 

The play was a melodrama. It was something 
about an idiot youth, who, concealed behind 
painted rocks at the left wing, witnesses the per- 
petration of a crime, and, afterwards, when vil- 
lainy is about to become successful in other ways 
through that crime, reveals the crime, prevents 
further villainy, secures the triumph of virtue 
and the punishment of the villain. It was, in- 
deed, a very bathos of literary and dramatic work, 
unskilfully acted and rudely set, but strangely 
effective, at least upon one of the audience that 
night. How real it all seemed to him ! His young, 
anxious face was set hard as the heroine struggled 
for release from the villain as he carried her off 
over the treacherous bridge and up the mountain. 
The tears came when the lover found a piece of 
her skirt hanging to a bush on the river-bank 
and knelt down and mourned her as dead. The 


64 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


wildest emotions were aroused by the cataract of 
real water pouring down the rocks amid the pic- 
turesque forests and mountains. The suspense 
was painful in watching the poor idiot who held 
the secret but was unable to tell it. And tears 
and laughter blended at last when the curtain 
dropped upon the happy lovers, — the idiot no 
longer an idiot, and the precious villain in custody 
of the law. 

Oh, there come no pleasures in after-years to 
equal the pleasures of youth ! 

That imperfect performance of a poor play, 
the first play hitherto witnessed, was a delight, 
a well-spring of fresh joy that deluged the heart 
with pleasure, even the memory of which in after- 
years gave back the hopes of boyhood. 

The heroine standing there on the mountain in 
the fire of sunset had spoken her part : 

“ As the echo sounds from peak to peak when 
the voice is sent through these wild heights, so a 
soul answers soul in echo-waves, though meeting 
but once and again never more.” 

William thought of nothing save the play as 
he retraced his way to the hotel and retired to 
his chamber. He soon slept. But ever through 
his feverish dreams came and went the scenes of 
the play. He awoke at daylight, but dozed again. 
The noises of a morning in the city were already 
in the streets, the milkmen ringing bells, the buck- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


65 


sters crying their wares, the carts rattling over 
the stony streets, the newsboys singing “ morning 
papers.” “As the echo sounds from peak to 
peak,” the newsboys seemed to sing, and then 
other voices seemed to say, “ so soul answers soul in 
echo-waves, meeting once and again never more.” 
A loud knocking at the door, the announcement 
of breakfast, and he awoke and rubbed his eyes. 


CHAPTER Y. 


“ A warke it ys as easie to be doone, 

As tys to saye, Jacke ! Robys on .” — Old Play. 

The day brought its duties. They were clear, 
strong, imperative. He had come to the city to 
stay, and now on the first day he must try to se- 
cure employment so that staying was possible. 
The way by which he was to make progress, the 
business he would follow, had never been fairly 
outlined in his mind. Employment of some kind 
would be found somewhere, sometime, somehow, 
was what he fondly dreamed and hoped. He was 
confident that he should be able to earn his living. 
He meant to work hard, and believed that ready 
hands and a willing heart would not lack for 
work anywhere in the world. That opinion was 
sound. 

The morning work began by searching the ad- 
vertisements in the newspapers. Some of them 
wanted clerks, some apprentices, some porters, 
some copyists, some salesmen ; there was no lack 
of demand for labor according to the advertise- 
ments of the morning papers. Many of the ad- 
vertisements he answered, some in person, some 
66 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


67 


by letter, and thus occupied the day passed. One 
stern fact impressed itself upon his mind, that the 
supply of labor was greater even than the de- 
mand. The day’s experience proved that for 
every “want” there were fifty applicants to fill it. 
He was not successful that day. He was not dis- 
couraged ; he would try again. And so other days 
j)assed with a similar experience until a week sped 
by, leaving him still unemployed. William at 
this period of his life was inexperienced, as fresh 
as the growing grass and as green. And then an 
adventure befell him, which, as his biographer, I 
feel bound to mention here. 

The little fund of money with which he left 
Slopingdale was more than half spent when one 
morning he saw an advertisement which on its face 
promised success, and he resolved to call. It ran 
thus : 

“Wanted, a young man of ability to represent 
an old established house in this city; salary $10 
a week. Apply to Flink & Co., No. — Chatham 
Street.” 

No. — Chatham Street proved to be an em- 
ployment agency. An elderly gentleman, a good- 
looking man with white hair and benevolent face, 
stood behind the desk enclosed in a little private 
office made by running wire- work about a short 
counter. He came forward and greeted his cus- 
tomer cheerfully as he entered. 


68 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


“You come to apply for situation. Yes, 
thought so ! What kind of a place now would 
you prefer? Something — er — light an’ genteel — 
er — or out-door, sir ?” 

William simply held the clipped advertisement 
before him, and he took it and read it. 

“ Now this place, ” pursued the elderly gentle- 
man, blandly and rapidly, “ has been much sought 
after. I may say greatly sought after this morn- 
ing, and it is, I fear, engaged. It is a place my 
partner secured and — er — controls. Let me see 
what can be done. (Musingly.) You are not a 
native of the city ? No. You are lately from 
the — er — country? Yes, I thought so. Ever 
been employed in a store? Ah, yes, just so. I 
always take an interest in boys from the country, 
a de — cided interest, an* if I can, — mind now, 
I don’t say,. I will, — but if I can possibly arrange 
this for you, if I can so far prevail upon my — er 
— partner, why, I will — er — engage you for the 
place. No thanks ; I will do it because I like you, 
I ” 

William here succeeded in dexterously slipping 
into the volume of the elderly gentleman’s swift 
discourse an inquiry as to the nature of the busi- 
ness and of the duties to be performed. 

“ Our terms are two dollars in advance,” irrel- 
evantly replied the elderly gentleman, as he at 
once returned to his desk and began writing. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


69 


William renewed his inquiry. 

“ Shall I take your name, sir ?” inquired the 
elderly gentleman, with pen in hand, looking up 
sharply at his questioner and surveying him from 
head to foot. 

William never could tell how it was, but he put 
his hand in his pocket and in a mechanical way 
took therefrom two dollars, which he mechanically 
handed to the elderly gentleman. The elderly 
gentleman mechanically put the money in his 
pocket. He then wrote a receipt stating that he 
had been paid in full for services rendered to Wil- 
liam Smith, Esq. William received the receipt, 
looked at it, saw what was written, and — put it in 
his pocket. What the services were which had 
been rendered him he did not know, and did not, 
at the time, think of asking. There was such an 
air of business pervading the office, such a charm 
of sincerity and — promptness about the elderly 
gentleman, that without doubt it w T as all right. 
He felt that it would have been foolish and shown 
“ greenness” to stand there for explanations. And 
then the elderly gentleman’s unconcealed prefer- 
ence for him was so undoubted and flattering, and 
his whole demeanor so exceedingly polite, that it 
would have been rude to find fault. Besides, 
there was no time to think about it or loiter for 
explanation or anything else. The elderly gentle- 
man came briskly forward, and, looking at his 


70 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


watch, bowed his customer out of the office, — 
bowed him out politely, quietly, firmly. 

“ Day after to-morrow, at ten o’clock A.M., you 
— er — may come again, not before; an’ then, sir, 
we will — er — see what we can do for you. Good- 
morning, good-morning , — er — good-morning !” 

It was a long time to wait from Tuesday till 
Thursday, the day appointed, and the time was 
shortened as much as possible by sight-seeing and 
indulgence in the pleasures of hope. Perhaps re- 
flection brought doubts. Was it possible that the 
elderly gentleman was a fraud ? Did he insert 
that advertisement merely to get as many two- 
dollar bills as possible from credulous dupes ? He 
had read of swindlers in the city, was this man a 
swindler ? 

If any such thoughts came they were promptly 
dismissed. For the honor of human nature be it 
said, it was impossible to believe that so benevolent 
a man could be a rascal. 

At the hour of ten o’clock on Thursday morning 
William presented himself at the office. There 
was a placard on the door : 

“ Gone to Jersey City” 

The door was locked. 

Evidently enough the firm of Flink & Co. had 
been called away on important business. It was 
clear, too, that the co-partnership possessed limited 
resources, or it would scarcely have been necessary 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


71 


to close up shop to answer a business call. Could 
the elderly gentleman have absented himself 
to avoid his customer that morning ? That 
would be almost too small. And yet it looked 
very probable. However, it was useless to stand 
there gazing at that card, the barred shutters, 
and the locked door. Determined to call again 
in the morning, William walked back to the 
hotel. 

On the following day he came, and boldly walked 
in through the open door. The elderly gentleman 
was there. He was writing as usual, and wore a 
pleasant expression — and a new hat. He did not 
come forward this time. 

“ Well?” he inquired, gruffly, looking sharply 
at his visitor. 

u I came to ask about the situation you promised 

me. I was here yesterday ** began William, 

trying to steady himself under the scrutiny of 
those hard eyes. 

“ See that card ?** interrupted the elderly gen- 
tleman, pointing to a card hanging on the wall. 
“ You can read, of course, an* — er — of course 
must be aware that business men must have rules, 
and must — er — have those rules observed during 
business hours. You see, we answer no questions 
here on Friday, — ‘No questions answered here 
on Friday* reads the card, sir. Come some other 
day, — er — next Thursday ; not before. Good-morn- 


72 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


insr, qood-morninq . good-morning. — GOOD- 
MORNING !” 

And the legend on the wall, “No questions 
answered here on Friday,” disappeared from the 
astonished gaze bent upon it as the elderly gentle- 
man bowed his visitor out once more, — this time 
shutting the door in his face. 

It was now perfectly clear that the elderly 
gentleman understood his business. He was an 
able man. He was well schooled in his profes- 
sion. He was capable of devising ways and 
means. 

As William sadly walked away, more in sorrow 
than anger, he was conscious that the elderly gen- 
tleman was an accomplished fellow. 

He was sensible of the fact, also, that he had 
made a permanent investment. It was only two 
dollars, but it was permanent. 

And he knew that he stood a better chance of 
finding a gold mine right there in Chatham Street 
than of getting the position of “ a young man of 
ability to represent an old established house” 
through the agency of FI ink & Co. 

And yet the lesson was not without value. 
It was an experience cheaply purchased and com- 
mon to strangers in the city; it might be made 
of benefit, it might even prove the best thing 
that could have happened. And it did. 

Spurred on to immediate action by anger and the 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


73 


urgent needs of an empty pocket, William re- 
sorted to personal appeal to secure employment. 
Deliberately lie went at once to work. Com- 
mencing at the Battery on Broadway, he applied 
in person at every store and business-house on the 
street, going from block to block, first on one side 
of the street then the other on each block. To 
every merchant he offered his services in any 
capacity. Work was what he asked, hard work, 
any kind of work at any kind of compensation. 
Earnestly asking to be given a trial, patiently 
following his search for employment, strongly 
showing a willingness to labor, he continued his 
course up Broadway. It was a hard trial. It 
was a cruel experience. The sensitive spirit re- 
volted. There were times when, rebuffed and 
repelled, pride and honor, even decency, seemed 
to urge abandonment of the dishonorable quest, 
— times when discouragement almost deadened 
the heart, — times when, in this pilgrimage for 
bread in forma pauperis, the very soul sickened. 

But the effort was successful. On the third day 
he was engaged as a clerk in a Broadway store. 

“ There is nothing after all like grit,” he 
thought, as he went to his work the first morn- 
ing. 

In which opinion, I think, he was clearly right. 
d 7 


CHAPTER YI. 

“And it came to pass, when he had made an end of 
speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit 
with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his 
own soul .” — First Book of Samuel . 

With his progress in the city as a clerk this 
history does not concern itself. It is not its pur- 
pose to follow him through that three years’ expe- 
rience, entertaining as it might be, each year of 
which brought him nearer the goal on which his 
eyes were ever fixed. 

Let it be remembered, then, that three years 
have passed since we last saw him, — three years 
of change, of ups and downs, of joys and sorrows, 
as are all the years of life to man. 

Let it be remembered, also, that — as we are 
now pretty well acquainted with the hero — at this 
point of time "the action of this sketch will be 
more rapid, and, if possible, more vigorous. 

We find ouryoung man this evening seated at the 
tea-table in his boarding-house. He is not much 
changed from the slender youth of Slopingdale, 
only grown more manly in appearance, with the 
lines of firmness in his features more clearly 
marked. There is a letter in his hand. It is 
74 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


75 


from Jennie Carey. She reminds him of the time 
flown, tells him it is her nineteenth birthday, and 
encloses her photograph. It is a pretty picture, — 
the eyes are just the same as of old. Looking at 
it he believes her when she assures him of her 
constant love, — re-avowing it to be still as true as 
when she gave him her heart three years ago with 
trembling lips and moistened eyes in the grove of 
country sunset. 

There had come changes, indeed, in the inter- 
vening time, but no change in the devotion of 
these true hearts. Through all the vicissitudes of 
the passing years these still beat faithful to their 
vows. 

Sitting there waiting for tea, the events of the 
past three years were vividly recalled by the letter 
in his hands. The contrast between the present 
and the past was strong and cheering. Three 
years ago he wds poor, dependent, helpless, and 
utterly without influence. He scarce could boast 
of one true friend. Now he was self-reliant, held 
a position of trust and responsibility, and drew a 
good salary. Then he had no prospects before 
him. Now he had money in bank, was master of 
himself and his future, had friends, and possessed 
the confidence of his employers. It was surely a 
contrast to please if not entirely to satisfy. 

Like all worthily-achieved ends the accomplish- 
ment had been difficult and full of trials. How 


76 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


very hard had been the way up thus far ! What 
struggles had brought him hither! what mental 
labor and unwearied industry ! From the modest 
clerkship in a retail store, with which his life in 
the city had begun, through the successive steps 
of a clerkship in a wholesale store, and thence to 
book-keeper of that establishment, each step on- 
ward and upward, until now he stood preparing 
for a further step up higher, it was indeed a long 
and weary way. 

And the future still held further trials reserved. 
Would his paths be as thorny as those of the 
past ? No matter ; the reward would come if the 
laborer only held faithful to the last. The reward 
must come, he resolved, as he tightly grasped the 
letter and shut his lips in sternest resolution. 

When he awoke from his temporary abstraction 
and looked up, he saw sitting opposite him at the 
tea-table a stranger. He woulcl have been re- 
garded a noticeable man in any company. He was 
a young man of dark complexion, curly-haired 
and black-bearded, and possessed eyes of singular 
clearness, beauty, and brilliancy. He was alto- 
gether a very handsome young gentleman. 

A steady observation of the stranger was inter- 
rupted by the appearance of the servant. But it 
was renewed on hearing him speak. 

“See here, miss, what’s this?” pointing to his 
cup. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


77 


“That, sir, is tea,” replied the girl. 

“ So. Ah, well, if that is tea please take it away 
and bring me coffee, but if a closer inspection 
shows it to be coffee — or rain-water, — then bring 
me — tea.” 

The servant departed enraged. 

The stranger smiled. “I don't know your 
ways here,” he said, pleasantly, “ but I don't mean 
to drink slops if I can help it.” 

Perhaps it was a rude speech, an insulting re- 
mark, but it was not meant so, as was evident 
from what followed. He went on, — 

“ Excuse me ; have you boarded here long? I 
came only to-day, and shall remain if suited, and, 
living in the same house, we may as well be ac- 
quainted, eh?” 

The frankness of the stranger, his engaging 
manner, and, above all, his commanding bearing 
won his hearer, and conversation began between 
them and was prolonged to the end of the meal. 
And thus they two first met. 

The stranger's name was Harry Aslileigh, and 
his business, teller in a bank. Thrown much in 
company together, acquaintance soon ripened be- 
tween these young men, — soon merged into famil- 
iar companionship. Each seemed the supplement 
of the other. Two weeks elapsed and they were 
like brothers in their close association and friend- 
ship ; three weeks and they roomed together. The 
7 * 


78 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


short history of each was soon told. Perhaps it 
derived additional charm in being detailed from 
evening to evening over the cigars. Certainly 
the similarity of their experience did much to 
strengthen friendship. Harry’s life had also been 
one of sickness, poverty, repression, and neglect. 
This made them brothers. And when joined to 
that similar past was the mutual purpose of work- 
ing up and out from those accidents of birth and 
fortune into a future of security and honor, it 
looked to their ambitious eyes as though fate had 
cast them upon the waves of life in one boat to 
help themselves in helping each other. 

The friendship of men ! How compact and 
solid is that expression ! How strong and lasting 
the passion that it declares ! Yes, my dear madam, 
there is a love of man for man, not less spiritual 
and absorbing, if less intense and passionate, than 
the love of man and woman, and far more con- 
stant and enduring. It fills the world with deeds 
of bravery and self-sacrifice. It shines like an 
aureola of glory about a Buddha, a Confucius, a 
Christ ! 

It was summer in the city. Our two young 
friends sat at their window in the evening looking 
out upon the restless city and down at the gay 
throng of people moving along the lighted street. 
They were conversing and smoking. 

“ I do not know whether you are right or not,” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


79 


said Harry, continuing the conversation ; “ but to 
me it looks all wrong to see you giving up a pay- 
ing situation and living off your hard-earned 
money to attend that deuced law-school ; I don’t 
like it.” 

“ Why ?” inquired William, quietly. “ Do you 
think I cannot succeed as a lawyer ?” 

“ Oh, as to that I can’t say ; you may. There 
isn’t any certainty in it, you know, like money in 
hand. Then look at the work before you, the 
long years given to mere preparation, the long 
years waiting for practice, the long years of toil 
to accomplish success. Why, it is appalling ! On 
the other hand, you have a certainty by keeping 
your money, by adding to it from steady earnings, 
and by investing it at interest. With money you 
can make yourself. You choose to throw it away. 
Is that wise ? I think not. A bird in the hand, 
you know.” 

Harry lighted another cigar as he ended, and 
lay back in his easy-chair, abandoning himself to 
the charm of the evening. AVith an air of con- 
scious mastery of his surroundings he listened to 
William. 

“ But, Harry, the money is not wasted or thrown 
away ; it is put to the best possible use. What 
better use for it than investing it in an education? 
I hunger for education as a starving man for 
food. I must have it, let it cost what it will. 


80 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


The mind is enlarged, strengthened, liberated only 
through education. A man’s intellect ought to 
be clear and pure, not like the sluggish pond, 
stagnant, slimy, reptilian. It ought to be like the 
mountain brook issuing out of perennial springs 
and flowing down past verdant shores, a source of 
continuing freshness and inspiration ; so also ed- 
ucation is necessary to attain a station in life, to 
achieve success in the world, — nothing worthy 
is accomplished without it. I must have it.” 

With an air of conscious mastery of his sur- 
roundings Harry listened to the end, then re- 
plied, — 

“ Certainly; your motive is right, — it is even 
grand. Still your error lies here, that you mis- 
take the means of happiness. Believe me, dis- 
content would follow you had you mastered all 
the learning of the world. Much knowledge 
never yet brought peace to an ambitious mind. 
The possession of knowledge makes man un- 
happy. He sees the littleness of all things, the 
shortness of life, the cheat of hope, the oblivion 
of death. All that he can learn is but as a grain 
of sand compared with the sands of the seashore. 
All he does learn only teaches him a newer pang 
of sadness. In itself, therefore, learning is far 
from being desirable. Do you imagine that it will 
raise you in the estimation of the world ? Not 
so. The world lets the scholar rot. Do you 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


81 


think to secure honorable station through learn- 
ing? What cares the world for so cheap a thing? 
Men rise not in the world by education, knowl- 
edge, learning, or wisdom, but by money. Money 
is the power that gives us all position and influ- 
ence, and the lack of it that keeps us low and un- 
known ! It matters little what one has in his 
head if he but have money in his pocket. Believe 
me, my dear fellow, the need of the hour, the 
meaning of life, is money ; wherefore 4 put money 
in thy purse* and rise, if you will, surely and 
quickly.** 

Harry*s eyes sparkled with excitement as he 
closed, and he looked, as he sat there so self-con- 
tained and wise, the very embodiment of the 
genius of worldliness. 

William mused a moment before replying. 
The sentiments just expressed shocked him. 

“ Harry, I call that a superficial and unworthy 
view of life. Plausible as it seems, it is untrue. 
It is dangerous advice to be given, — dangerous 
counsel to be followed.** 

“ And why ?** Harry asked. 

“ Because, simply, there is no honor in it. If a 
man*s life has no higher aim than to accumulate 
dollars, — if that is the only pursuit rewarded by 
the applause of men, then let us cease talking 
about immortal souls while we live like the brutes 
that perish. I tell you there is a higher meaning 
/ 


82 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


in life than that, and you know it! I cannot 
believe that the world is so bad that it will not 
recognize the good, the learned, the virtuous. All 
that the earth is, all that man is in this enlight- 
ened age, is owing to the fact that such men once 
lived, and now live in the world. If these men 
had never lived, if no philosopher, poet, philan- 
thropist, artist, teacher, historian, preacher, orator, 
or writer had ever lived, but instead the earth 
had constantly spawned gold-grubbers and gold- 
grabbers, humanity would present but a sorry 
spectacle; I will not slander the race to which I 
belong by acknowledging its contempt for itself. 
The world is not degraded and base. It will 
esteem the worthy though they be poor. It will 
reward the toiler though he be the poorest of the 
poor. It will honor a man! And even though 
it were not so, still my course would be the same. 
My own sense of self-respect, whatever may be the 
opinion of the world, compels me to a worthier 
life, and I feel it to be true that that man lives 
the best life, and bequeaths to his children the 
richest legacy, who sheds honor about his name, 
although lie may live and die without a dollar !” 

It was William’s eyes that sparkled now, and 
William’s face that flushed with animation. 

But Harry sat there as impassive as an Indian. 
Quite unaffected by the impassioned rhetoric of 
William, he coolly gazed into the street and com- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


83 


placently puffed away at his cigar. He addressed 
his remarks to the housetops when at length he 
spoke. 

“ Well, I’m your friend, and I wish you suc- 
cess. I want to see you succeed. The success is 
what one wants, you know, not arguments about 
it. I shall be glad if you get on in your own way. 
Perhaps if any one could you can. It is a hard 
way, though; a regular Jordan, I tell you. For 
my part, I mean to try the other way ; I think it 
entirely more satisfactory. I shall try the worldly 
way ; it is not so perilous as yours, and there will 
be many to keep me company during the lonesome- 
ness of travel. Moreover, there is a reasonable 
certainty of my reaching the top of achievement, 
if at all, at an age when I am still young enough 
to enjoy the prospect from that elevated altitude, 
whilst you will reach your cold excelsior height 
only when you are old and gray, and find it too 
late to enjoy anything. Now I speak thus plainly 
because, you know, it is my habit. You may 
call me worldly, or worse, if you like. But you 
should remember that we live in the world. It 
becomes us to adapt ourselves to the world instead 
of trying to adapt the world to us. As long as I 
live I mean to act with the world in which I 
live; when I die and become an angel — well, you 
see the argument. Now, there is no denying the 
force of the world’s opinion. According to that 


84 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


opinion the meaning of life is happiness, and 
happiness is wealth. Put it in any way yon please 
and that is about the result. Well, is it not wise 
in order to gain good repute to fall in with men 
in their opinion, and not fall out with them? 
Why should one swim against the current of the 
world’s applause ? When a bank-account number- 
ing variously from five hundred to a million of 
dollars is more influential in securing its possessor 
respect and honor than a whole headful of cultured 
brains, why, what’s the use of cultured brains ?” 

The servant entered with their lamp, newly 
trimmed and lighted, and the conversation ceased. 

And so these young men laid their plans, reso- 
lutely setting themselves to the attainment of the 
same object, but by different paths. 

As the light illuminated the room Harry pushed 
his hair back from his brow, and William noticed 
a scar on his temple near the ear and wondered 
how he got it. The wound was an ugly gash, 
and he shuddered, he knew not why, as he looked 
at it. In a moment Harry put his hand over it 
and carefully covered it up with his curls. Ah, 
Harry, a time will come when that scar will eat 
into your brain and make you regret the day you 
were born ! 

As time passed Harry made his way in the 
world through the portal of society. He attended 
balls, parties, and theatres, and danced attendance 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


85 


on fashion. He made the acquaintance of the 
ladies of society, and numbered many friends 
among them. Especially did he cultivate the 
matronly and experienced, albeit elderly and ugly. 
He became a pet of the middle-aged women of 
standing, respectability, and wealth. With the 
devout Mussulman he believed woman to be the 
delight and joy of this life and the hope and com- 
fort of the next. 

The church also became a hallowed place. He 
carefully attended all its various services, exhib- 
iting the fervor of his zeal no less in ministrations 
in the Sunday-school than in the week-day prayer- 
meeting. Thus he made rapid progress. His 
pastor observing him, complimented his zeal and 
recommended the young men to pattern after so 
praiseworthy an exemplar of Christian life. The 
young ladies of the congregation, in the plenitude 
of religious emotions, labored upon worsted smok- 
ing-caps to crown that pious brow withal, and 
knitted delicate slippers embroidered with impos- 
sible dogs’ heads for those dear feet so swift in the 
ways of the Lord. Harry had the audacity of 
genius, and the world was his oyster. Evidently 
Harry was getting on in the world. 

Meanwhile William faithfully continued to 
pursue the fascinating study of the law, working 

“ Through days of weary toil, 

And nights devoid of ease,” 

8 


86 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


to fit himself for the duties of a laborious and 
worrying profession. His entire time was given 
up to this purpose. His mind, under the dis- 
cipline of the master-minds of the law, rapidly 
expanded. As the works of Coke, Blackstone, 
Chitty, Greenleaf, Kent, Washburn, and a lesser 
host of legal lights opened up before him their 
wondrous beauties and poured out their gems, his 
ardent nature exulted and sprang forward re- 
freshed for further conquest. Gladness, such as 
he had never felt before, thrilled him as he watched 
the unfolding, day by day, of the principles that 
underlie all human rights, and are recognized and 
interwoven in all systems of civil government. But 
while the spirit was strong the flesh was weak, 
and it soon became known that William was ail- 
ing. His sunken eye and emaciated form showed 
that all this knowledge so laboriously gained and 
greedily enjoyed was not a strength, but rather a 
weakness, since it threatened to rob him of health 
and stretch him upon a sick-bed. 

His condition was remarked and feelingly 
deplored by the servant-girls. 

“ Thet light- complected feller looks bad, don’t 
he? He is gitting so thin he soon won’t cast a 
shadder ! And don’t his eyes shine though ?” 

“ Sure, thin, some bitters wouldn’t hurt ’im,” 
drawled the maid from Erin, with her hands on 
her hips. “ The byes are mighty thick in luv 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


87 


wid one anither, an’ they look like sped men ts uv 
health an’ sickness togither, — ah, but thin don’t I 
loike thet healthy one ! Och hone, he is the 
purty bye, wid his sell mile an’ winsome ways! 
An’ he says as it’s hard study thet is bustin’ his 
friend, poor chap !” 

Thus the girls gave an opinion privately under 
the stairs, and the distinction was accorded to 
William — was it not distinction he was laboring 
for? — of being the object of a chamber-maid’s 
pity. Evidently William was not getting on in 
the world. 

But those two years of legal studies were the 
pleasantest years of his life. They were years, to 
be sure, of mental toil, anxiety, sleeplessness, and 
sickness ; but they were years, too, of progress, — 
years all luminous with the hopes of manhood. 

When William Smith at the end of those two 
years presented himself before the court for exam- 
ination and admission to the bar, his advent pro- 
voked curiosity. Indeed, he was himself a curiosity. 
He was not a handsome man, certainly. His legs 
were too long and his body was too thin for phys- 
ical beauty. He appeared to have undergone a 
recent washing, and suffered undue attenuation in 
the wringing-out process. His youthful and cadav- 
erous looks were exceedingly funny, and provoked 
unmistakable merriment. 


88 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


The lawyers themselves were not proof against 
the general feeling of derision. 

“ Tliere’s a lawyer !” exclaimed one in mockery, 
and the spectators laughed. 

u Looks ez ef he lied lost somethin’,” volun- 
teered a loafer on the rear bench. 

“ Probably he has ; pVaps his uncle,” suggested 
the next speaker. 

A handsome young gentleman sauntered down 
the middle aisle. He smiled on the crowd as he 
expressed his opinion, — “ He ought to go home 
and lay in a square meal ; he seems to need one.” 

But when his examination came on jibes and 
jeers ceased, and murmurs of approval and praise 
followed as every question asked evoked a prompt 
and correct reply in terse English. When the ex- 
amination ended all poor appearance was forgotten 
in the new respect for mind and learning. It is 
ever so. For a time a man may be judged by his 
looks and taken for what he appears to be, but as 
time passes and he becomes better known, he will 
be judged by what he does and esteemed for what 
he really is. 

The judge had been kind enough to accompany 
the presentation of a license with a little speech 
of commendation, eulogistic of the applicant’s ex- 
ceptional proficiency in the science of law. It 
may have been only a customary form usually em- 
ployed on such occasions, but it seemed so appro- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


89 


l^riate as to cause a movement of applause from 
the crowd. Remembering our frailty as human 
beings we may possibly forgive William for lifting 
his eyes to the benches and surveying the crowd 
with a proud smile. 

It was a couple of months later, when, fairly 
embarked on the legal sea, William sat in his 
modest law-office in Broad Street, waiting for the 
clients that might drop in, thinking of that court- 
room experience. He had just come from court, 
wliet’e he had made an argument in a case involving 
the question of vested rights, — always a difficult 
subject in law. Lying there in his easy-chair, 
fatigued and worn out by his effort, that old scene 
came before him, and he saw again the sneer, heard 
again the jibes of that day, and the quick change 
in the crowd that followed. Something of the 
same kind had occurred in court to-day. Would 
it recur again and again in his practice? Should 
he always be obliged to work up hill against prej- 
udice in this way ? The thought that he must 
first combat a feeling against himself before re- 
ceiving justice on the strength of his cause was 
galling to his sensitive nature. He did not know 
then what he learned later, that all young lawyers 
have gone through, and must go through, the same 
senseless experience. It is a sort of punishment 
the people on and off the Bench take pleasure in 
8 * 


90 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


inflicting upon a fellow-being for his presumption 
in being young and trying to make a living. 

Not being aware of this truth at the time, 
William was naturally restless under his experi- 
ence. He rose impatiently and began walking the 
floor, and as he did so he heard hurried steps on 
the stairs. The next moment the door was thrust 
open and Harry entered, — the handsome Harry, 
against whom no prejudice was felt by anybody, 
but whose progress through life was a conquest 
of the good will of everybody. He stepped in 
quickly and grasped his friend’s hand. 

“How do you do, Bill?” he demanded, baring 
his curly head and smiling his happy smile. 

William looked at him seriously. “ You are 
welcome, Hal. I wish though you came oftener. 
I get lonesome here,” he said, breaking into a 
smile. 

“ Of course you do ; it’s a miserable den,” 
looking about him; “a regular prison -cell, 
eh ?” 

“Not when you are in it; it’s always cheerful 
then. You are my welcome guest always.” 

“ Of course I am, better even than a client, for 
I come to do you good, while a client only comes 
for you to do him good.” 

“ What good ?” 

“ Why, I mean to take you out of your den 
into th.e open air of life, out of imprisonment 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 91 

into liberty, — in short, out of the law-office into 
society.” 

“ Truly ? And how do you know that I will 
obey you ? How can you guess I will go ?” 

“As you love me you will. Seriously now, 
Bill, allow me to persuade you this once to go 
with me to-night. It is a reception, an exquisite 
entertainment ; come, I cannot be denied this 
once, you know. So get ready by eight. Au 
revoir /” 

“ But, Hal, wait a moment, — don’t run away 
like that. Listen. You are aware I never attend 
such entertainments. I shall feel out of place 
and strange; I know I shall not like it. What a 
figure I shall cut in swallow-tails, patent-leathers, 
and with hair parted in the middle! Think of 
me trying to talk soft nonsense to society belles ! 
Spare me, I beg.” 

“ Nothing of the sort, Bill. It is only a family 
party, a friendly informal gathering. You have 
not asked the name 'of the place, but the party is 
at the house of one of the most charming women 
in New York. You will be delighted to know 

her, especially since I myself But I’ll tell 

you that another time. You must know all about 
it, of course, but not now. Suffice it that she is 
beautiful and as good as she is lovely. You 
cannot escape. You must come, so be ready at 
eight.” 


92 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


“ Well, Hal, I will go this once.” 

“ Thanks ! And you will go again if you go 
once. I shouldn’t wonder now if I made a society 
man out of you yet. Au revow till eight. Ha ! 
ha ! ha !” 

And Harry slammed the office-door and ran 
down the stairs laughing. 


CHAPTER VII. 


“ I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man 
Enter’d the breast of the wild-dreaming hoy ; 

And from that hour I grew — what to the last 
I shall be, — thine adorer 1 ” — Bulwer. 

One rises by slow stages to distinction, bat he 
plunges at a bound into folly. 

It was a fine night. The streets were crowded 
and brilliantly lighted, and the sky was cloudless, 
its dome thickly gemmed with stars. 

As the carriage bowled along the avenues of 
upper New York sounds of music could be heard 
issuing from many an illuminated aristocratic man- 
sion, and fairy forms of womanhood could be 
seen flitting past many an elaborately-curtained 
window. 

The destination was soon reached. When he 
stepped from the carriage William noticed that 
his feet pressed the richest Brussels, reaching across 
the pavement and up the steps of a stately and 
grand establishment. It was a house wide and 
high, one of the old style of substantial architec- 
ture, its many windows throwing a flood of light 
far into and up and down the street. Through 
the open door now and then could be caught 

93 


94 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


glimpses of a paradise inside like a vision of en- 
chantment. 

“ Come, Bill,” said Harry, running up the 
steps three at a jump, “ let us hurry ; we are late.” 

“ We will leave early, Hal,” rejoined William. 
“Why?” 

“ To lose no sleep.” 

“ Pshaw !” 

They entered and were announced. 

The hostess met them at the inner door. “It 
is only a quiet evening party,” she explains, as 
William is presented. She looks at Harry as he 
passes into the room, then, turning, adds with a 
witching smile, “ Mr. Ashleigh’s friends are always 
welcome here.” 

A tall, aged gentleman of aristocratic presence 
approaches and is introduced as Mr. Worthington, 
the husband of the hostess and the owner of the 
establishment. He bows coldly. “You are wel- 
come, gentlemen,” he says, with freezing polite- 
ness, then walks away and remains at the farther 
end of the room among a group of men. 

Other introductions follow, — two young ladies 
are presented, one a niece of Mrs. Worthington, 
a slender sylph-like blonde of eighteen, with the 
bluest of eyes, one a companion school-mate, a con- 
tented brunette of sixteen, with queenly poise of 
head and a dimple coming and going in her olive 
cheek with her smile. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


95 


William sees his figure in the mirror and is sat- 
isfied. Pie does not look much different from the 
average man. His height is good, his appearance 
gentlemanly, his manner easy. His face is too 
pale, but his large eyes are lustrous and eloquent. 
Will those ^yes ever overcome that gentle expres- 
sion, — that shyness as timid as a deer with horns 
in the velvet? 

It is a study to watch Harry in that maze of 
good company. He knows everybody. He con- 
verses with everybody. He pleases everybody. 
As he walks down the room with the sylph-like 
blonde by his side expressions of admiration come 
from all sides. And truly they are a handsome 
couple ! 

What a rapt surprise of beauty is that elegant 
home ! The carpets are Turkish, and the tread 
upon them is soft as the moss in summer woods. 
The sofas are velvet and as comfortful as the arms 
of a woman. From the high ceilings drop mas- 
sive curtains of crimson and gold to fall in rich 
folds across the windows. The walls are literally 
covered with rare pictures wonderfully framed, 
imported from foreign lands. The air is heavy 
with the perfume of flowers. 

The charm of luxury and refinement — that 
rare combination — is upon all objects; the cul- 
tured and beautiful of society are there, — men and 
women intermingled in social intercourse, amid a 


96 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


low ham of conversation, the rustle of silks, and 
swirl of muslins, — and the gratified beholder 
enjoys it all fully. 

Mrs. Worthington comes to his side after a while 
and converses with him. He looks at the charm- 
ing woman walking near his side down those 
beautiful parlors. How composed, handsome, 
and fascinating she is ! She can scarcely be older 
than twenty-three, the age of perfect womanhood. 
Her exquisite drapery falls in long soft folds about 
a nobly-moulded figure. He marks the play of 
her jewelled hands, so white, small, and delicate. 
He marks the knot of rosebuds rising and falling 
upon her bosom. ' He marks the passion of dark 
blue eyes and the voluptuous fulness of a perfect 
chin and neck. He marks the pinkish glimmer 
of sea-shell rose tints through the laces covering 
neck and bust. He marks these and the name- 
less multitude of charms, and his blood glows with 
a strange warmth and passion. 

Somehow it seems that he has known this peer- 
less woman all his life ; nay, he has known her 
before this 'life, in another life ages ago. 

She turns upon him her subtle magnetic eyes 
and tightens her clasp upon his sleeve, and so 
together they enter the conservatory. 

“ You shall tell me all about yourself ; see, are 
not these pretty flowers?” 

He takes from her fair hand the newly-plucked 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


97 


blossoms she offers him, and, with the lost grace 
of a knight of chivalry, holds them to his lips. 
He is thrilling through every nerve under her 
glance. 

“ And will you listen to such a worthless tale?” 

She smiles : “ I shall like the story. You in- 
terest me greatly.” 

There is no reply. William is in a dream. 
The hum of voices from the parlors emphasizes 
the deep hush about them where they stand. Si- 
lently they seat themselves in a recess and look 
back through the tropical vista of gorgeous 
bloom. 

The dancers are forming in the parlors. Si- 
lently they watch the moving figures in the waltz, 
dreamingly listen to an air from Strauss. 

Unconscious of observation a young man and 
woman saunter down the adjacent walk in the 
conservatory and seat themselves in a rustic-seat, 
out of sight, but within hearing. The soft rustle 
of the lady’s dress, the gentle murmur of the 
gentleman’s speech, rise to the ear across the 
flowers. 

6C I love you better than life, my 'darling !” 

The music pauses, the flowers bend their slender 
necks to listen, — to listen for the lady’s answer. 

“ I am so happy !” 

The hum of voices from the parlors seems to 
echo back the words, — 
e g 9 


98 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


u So happy.” 

The flowers lift their slender stalks and bob 
their heads, seeming to say, — 

“ So happy.” 

In that expectant pause the voices are heard 
blending in swift question and reply. 

“ And when shall the day be?” 

“ Yourself may name it.” 

“Next Sabbath, then.” 

“ So soon ?” 

“ An age till then, my dearest !” 

Again the soft rustle of the lady’s dress, the 
gentle murmur of the gentleman’s speech, are 
wafted on the perfumed air across the flowers. 
Then the music swells once more, falling like 
liquid notes of silver in the air, and they two pass 
'together arm in arm into the parlors. 

William looks straight up at his companion as 
if to meet her eyes, but her eyes are bent down 
and her cheek has a deeper color. Her attitude 
impresses him, and strange thoughts are in his 
mind, strange words upon his lips. 

“ How happy those lovers are !” she sighs. 

“ Yes ; as happy as a pair of turtle-doves.” 

“ They will never forget this house.” 

“ Never !” 

“ They never can forget.” 

“ Nor I !” 

“ You?” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 99 

“ Yes, I ; for, madam, you are the handsomest 
woman I ever saw !” 

The exclamation was on his lips, he tried to 
repress it, but it would out. How true it was ! 

“ Don’t be offended,” he pleads, as he notices 
the flush deepen on her cheek. “I could not help 
it. I could no more withhold my modest tribute 
to your beauty than be blind to this blaze of light 
or dead to the color and perfume of these flowers. 
Pardon me, but you are Mary, Scotland’s queen, 
come to life again.” 

She does not stir. She only lifts her eyes to his 
and gives one rapt look of delirious fascination, 
gradually dropping her glance as her lips wreathe 
into a sunny smile. 

The lips open for one word : “ Flatterer!” 

“■ Do not think so ; I am not capable of it,” he 
answers, under her spell. “And if I were it 
would be impossible here. No man gilds refined 
gold, nor paints the lily.” 

No, it was not flattery, and she knew it. He 
spoke as he felt, and she, wise woman of the 
world, knew that fact as well as she knew her 
own wondrous loveliness. 

More seriously she continues : “ Then, indeed, 
I must believe you. But, kind sir, this Mary of 
Scotland, was she not a wicked woman ? History 
speaks ill of her, does it not ?” 

“ Most unjustly.” 


100 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


“ If I remember aright, she had too many hus- 
bands. And did she not — murder Darnley ?” 

“ No; *tis most infamously false.” 

“Does not history tell it?” 

“ It does.” 

“ And it is not true ?” 

“ No ; the tale is a base invention of her wicked 
enemies of whom she had many thousands, — poor 
lady ! Ah, she was no murderess ! She was 
ever kind, charitable, pious, and a saint on earth. 
Elizabeth murdered her.” 

“ She was wondrously beautiful, do you say?” 

“ She was.” 

“ And therefore men loved her ?” 

“They could not help it; it is the fate of 
beauty to be admired, — of a beautiful woman to 
be loved.” 

“ And so she became unfortunate ?” 

“ If to be loved was to be unfortunate, — yes.” 

“ Then she was most unfortunate.” 

“ How ? In being loved ?” 

She lifts her lashes again, and, with an earnest 
gaze into his eyes, replies, — 

“In being loved — and not daring to return 
love for love !” 

A pause. 

She rises now, and stands before him the fairest 
woman in all the world. She laughs lightly 
noticing his perplexed look. She turns her pro- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 101 

file to him. Her tone as she speaks is tender and 

low. 

“ Come, let us return to the parlors. I must 
make you acquainted with some of the charming 
girls, else you will rue your visit.” 

He laughs scornfully. 

“ Girls !” 

“Yes. Why not?” 

“ Mrs. Worthington !” 

“Well!” 

“I wish to know none of them. Attend to 
your guests if you wish ; perhaps I have taken 
too much of your time ; leave me here alone.” 

“ Why then, what is the matter ?” 

“Nothing.” 

She looks down into his upturned eyes with 
sidelong glance and holds out to him her small 
delicate hand with irresistible archness. “ I 
think we ought not remain here longer in this 
retired spot,” she explains; “let us go to the 
company and — talk further.” 

Then he rises, and they walk arm in arm, like 
the lovers just gone, down the narrow path, in the 
midst of the tropical wealth of gorgeous bloom, 
and so pass through the door at the end of the 
vista. 

“ I am thinking about those lovers,” murmurs 
the radiant Mrs. Worthington, smilingly, as she 
turns the bluish lustre of her eyes till they dwell 

9 * 


102 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


steadily upon his for a moment and then veil 
themselves beneath their lashes. “ How happy 
lovers are ! But you have not told me about 
yourself. You are Mr. Ashleigh’s friend, of 
whom he has 'often spoken. Come, sit here be- 
side me and begin.” 

It is an insolvable mystery of life how human 
beings antagonize and attract each other. Who 
does not know of that terrible instinct that impels 
those who never met before to hate or love each 
other ? Who does not remember a personal expe- 
rience, and of saying, on a first meeting with a 
stranger, “ I dislike that person, and yet I know 
not why,” or, “I am strongly drawn towards this 
person, and cannot refrain from confessing my 
love”? 

Was it such an influence as this that held this 
man and woman and infatuated them with each 
other? Perhaps so. They had met for the first 
time. They were young, ardent, susceptible, 
romantic, brilliant, ingenuous. The very novelty 
of such an acquaintance between such people, 
a first revelation of culture and beauty and soul 
to him, and of an appreciative and keen intellect 
to her, conspired to draw them strangely near to 
each other. 

Or was she only amusing herself? Mrs. 
Worthington was a spirited woman, an enter- 
taining as well as fascinating woman. She pos- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


103 


sessed beauty, intellect, and humor. She could 
use a highly-cultivated mind to as good or bad 
purpose as a blooming face and perfect figure. 
She was not wont to deny herself any diversion 
that was pleasant. She never forgot her power. 
She might consistently make a fool of a man. 
But on this occasion she had no such object or 
purpose, however plain the result. 

Perhaps they w^ere both fools. They certainly 
enjoyed each other’s society. It took but a short 
time to enter into a conversation full of charm, 
covering the wide field of literature, art, history, 
religion, and sentiment, on all of which topics they 
perfectly agreed. That their views on all things 
should be reciprocal seemed most natural. It was 
an affinity of soul, and they recognized it, like any 
other fact that makes life happier, with gladness. 

Why dwell upon the subject ? It happens every 
day. The only surprise is that we hear of it so 
seldom. To one who knows by experience — and 
what man or woman knows it not? — what it is 
to meet and hold communion with an impression- 
able responsive mind, — a mind that in quick ap- 
preciation and sympathy seems a reflex of our own 
and meets us half-way intuitively, — such an one 
need not be told of the thoughts that fill two such 
minds when first meeting, — need not be told of 
the joy that both experience in such an interview. 

The evening fled rapidly, its moments melting 


104 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


away like snow in the sun under the warmth of 
that congenial intercourse. It was far past midnight 
when Harry, with the dimple-cheeked brunette 
hanging on his arm, approached and announced 
that the carriage had been waiting an hour. 
William hastily rose, expressing astonishment at 
the lateness of the hour. Harry smiled and 
turned aside to whisper something to the dimple- 
cheeked brunette, and they both laughed as they 
walked away. 

Mrs. Worthington gracefully rose to her feet, 
laughing her low, musical laugh, and once more 
their eyes met. 

“ By this I know that you have spent a pleasant 
evening,” she said, smiling into his eyes; “ other- 
wise the time would not have flown so swiftly.” 

Wiliam was dazzled by her beauty. “It is 
heaven here,” he replied, in a dazed way. 

“Then you will come again. Good-night!” And, 
resting her hand for a moment in his clasp, she 
turned aside from him and bade farewell to her 
departing guests, now preparing to leave. 

In a dazed way William walked down the steps 
and entered the carriage ; in a dazed way heard 
the fusillade of talk which Harry shot at him as 
they were driven through the almost-deserted 
streets ; in a dazed w T ay tried to reason with him- 
self, but unavail ingly, as he contemplated the 
events of that eventful night. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


105 


And dazed still, and silent, he entered his home. 
But if he had been anxious to lose no sleep that 
night he must have been greatly disappointed. 
For all through the night his rest was disturbed by 
sudden wakings from dreams of fairy-land, wherein 
the chief figure was ever the radiant Mrs. Worth- 
ington smiling upon him, gradually turning the 
bluish lustre of her eyes till they dwelt steadily 
upon his for a moment, and then veiling them- 
selves and dropping towards the roses on her 
breast. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


11 There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is hound in shallows.’ 7 — Shakspeare's Julius Ccesar. 

11 His life was gentle — this was a man.” — Ibid. 

This narrative has advanced thus far as a 
chronicle of plain biography, but now an eventful 
period comes, in the contemplation of which all 
that went before is but a series of introductory 
scenes to the central act of a drama. 

Harry had indeed foretold truly when he said 
his friend would delight in the social world after 
once tasting its pleasures. The change in him 
of late was wonderful. All his leisure was now 
devoted to society. Almost nightly he could be 
found at some social assembly, ball, or party. His 
office was often deserted, and his business neglected 
for days at a time. Even the time formerly 
devoted to study was now given up to fashion. 
In these assemblages it so happened that Mrs. 
Worthington and he often met. His calls upon 
her at home were also frequent and prolonged. 
He could not deny, and made no pretence of de- 
106 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


107 


nial, that lie felt more at home there than else- 
where. It was a restful place, a quiet, homelike 
spot. He met so many -pleasant people there, and 
made so many agreeable acquaintances and friends. 
He was always warmly welcomed by the fair 
hostess, always pleasantly entertained. She was 
ever glad to see him, and he felt drawn towards 
her by the strongest ties of friendship, and so, 
quite blindly, and reckless as the moth that beats 
out its life against the flame, he obeyed the ever- 
active impulse that drew his feet within those 
doors. 

And did he never dream of the danger threat- 
ening his peace in hovering thus about that charm- 
ing woman ? He could hardly have been accused 
of knowing the danger. He never analyzed his 
feelings or examined himself to know whether 
there could be any wrong in his conduct. Nor 
did he care to do so. His feelings were pleasant 
ones. It was enough for him to simply know 
that this woman drew him powerfully by the gen- 
tlest influence he had ever known fully towards 
herself; enough to know that he felt himself a 
better man when in her sweet presence; enough 
to know that he became wholly dissatisfied and 
despondent when away from her. He had no im- 
pure motive. He tried always to treat the lady 
with the deference and respect due to a married 
woman. He never thought of conveying to her 


108 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


the intelligence that he loved. Perhaps the occa- 
sions were numerous enough when such a con- 
fession might have been safely made, might even 
have been expected, but they passed by unim- 
proved. The toils of this woman were about 
him, her finger controlled the very beatings of his 
heart, her look the very thoughts of his brain, 
and yet if he had been plainly asked the question 
whether he loved her he would have honestly an- 
swered no. And he would have believed that he 
spoke the truth. What folly flows from love ! He 
imagined that he still loved Jennie Carey. He 
believed that he was still true to her, and could 
remain true while indulging in delirious friend- 
ships with other women. His love! It belonged 
to Jennie, would always remain Jennie’s. It 
would never change. Meanwhile, in Jennie’s ab- 
sence he could safely enjoy the subtle fascination 
of this cultured lady’s friendship, safely live in 
the sunshine of her smiles, safely remain heart- 
whole, safely continue true to the absent one ! 

It was about this time that a slight interruption 
of affairs occurred. Harry was stricken down 
with a fever. He lay for many days in a rav- 
ing delirium. William was constantly in attend- 
ance upon him. He watched him day and night, 
and forgot all else in his ministrations for his 
friend. 

In the long hours of watching at that sick-bed 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


109 


there came no feeling of self or self-interests to* 
disturb the mind of the watcher. lie sat there 
carefully noting the progress of the disease, 
promptly administering the medicine left by the 
doctor, and thinking of how he might best nurse 
his friend back to health again. The fever passed 
and Harry recovered, as much perhaps by reason 
of the careful nursing of his friend as any treat- 
ment of the doctor. 

But long afterwards the scene of that sick-bed, 
and of all that had passed there during that weary 
watch, remained photographed upon the watcher’s 
mind, and he kept recurring to that page of 
memory with a strange persistency of affection. 

Of all those days of weakness and delirium 
one day stands out most prominently before his 
mind ; it is the day on which the fever broke. 

It is morning, and he Is standing by the bed- 
side where Harry lies tossing his arms and mur- 
muring vows of devotion to some unnamed woman. 
In a rhapsody of words he pours out his love to the 
unknown. It is the critical period of his disease 
and a change may soon be looked for, be it for the 
worse or better. Gently William bathes that hot 
brow and moistens those parched lips telling their 
tale of love. He bends over his friend with the 
tenderness of a woman. He sees the throbbing 
temples, and the scar, red now as blood, on the left 
temple fully exposed in the bright morning sun- 
10 


110 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


shine. He passes his hand again over the spot 
with a gentle touch, — and the eyes of the sufferer 
open wide, wild, glaring upon him. “I love her 
as my life !” mutter the fevered lips. And then 
the trembling hands are raised to remove that 
hand from the brow, and the curls are carefully 
drawn down over the scar, while the eyes sweep 
the room anxiously, and the lips say, “ There is 
no one here but you, — no one has seen ? I have 
been very ill. Oh, how weak I am ! how weak, 
how weak !” 

One week later the invalid was restored to 
health, and William went back to business, and 
to thinking about Mrs. Worthington. The ab- 
sorbing influence of that woman was still felt and 
acknowledged ; it now became intensified a hun- 
dredfold by a circumstance which wrought an 
entire change in their relationship. 

One day Harry came into William’s office, all 
glossy curls and radiant smiles as of old, and 
threw himself upon the lounge with the an- 
nouncement, — 

“ Mrs. Worthington wants a divorce!” 

u What !” exclaimed William. 

“ It’s true. Old Worthington and she do not 
live happily. He neglects her, I believe, and ill- 
treats and is cruel to her. There is no congenial- 
ity between them. How can there be? ’Twere 
impossible in such a union, — a union of May and 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . m 

December in every sense. And she is determined 
to get a divorce.” 

William was silent. Again there came strange 
thoughts into life mind. He sat there fora minute 
looking at the handsome Harry, then he replied, — 

“ If he treats her cruelly she ought to be di- 
vorced, but the law of New York will not divorce 
for such a cause.” 

“ I know it ; but the proper legal cause also 
exists, and can be proven.” 

“ Ah, that will do !” 

“ Will you take the case ?” 

William started : “ I !” 

“Yes ; why not ?” 

Certainly there was no good reason why, and 
he confessed it. It was his business. He was a 
lawyer. Pie was even glad to be of service to the 
lady. Why should he not take the case if she 
desired it ? 

“ I will,” he answered. 

“ Then it is settled ; she will call on you to- 
morrow.” 

“ Very well.” 

“ Au revoir .” And Harry left. 

The next day Mrs. Worthington called. She 
seemed to feel embarrassed and remained but a 
couple minutes. But more embarrassed still was 
her lawyer. His little, dingy, plainly-furnished 
office, with its scant supply of books, shrunk into 


112 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


so mean a thing in his eyes when she entered that 
he lost all his professional composure. The stock 
had never been large and there was not a great 
deal to lose, but he lost all there was. In extreme 
agitation he took her hand at the door. 

“ Madam, I welcome you to my poor sanctum ; 
I can offer only poor reception. Let me render 
you rich services.” 

She smiled sadly : “ Thanks, my friend. Ser- 
vices will be rich indeed that free me from 
my husband; for we are sadly mismated and 
miserable.” 

She refused the chair offered her, and went on : 
“ I employ you as my counsel to represent me 
fully and to manage the case as you think best. 
I have confidence in you and can trust you, for 
you are my friend, I think ” 

“ Madam ” he began, reproachfully. 

“ I know you are,” she continued. “ In this 
packet of papers” (laying it on his desk) “you 
will find a complete statement from which you 
can prepare my case ; the other papers will furnish 
the proof. Mr. Ashleigh has seen you ?” 

“ He has” 

“ And told you ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then you know my wishes; do them quickly, 
my friend, and then claim your reward.” 

She raised her eyes and looked at him earn- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. H3 

estly, then turned to the door. At the door 
William took her hand. 

“ Farewell. Your friendship shall be my re- 
ward!” he said. 

She had entered the hall, but she stopped, 
turned, and came back to him where he stood. 
“ Shall I — must I — call here again ?” 

Oh, lame and impotent conclusion ! 

As they two stood there in the lonely, silent office 
her dress touched him, her eyes looked into his, 
her breath was on his cheek, her little hand trem- 
bling on his sleeve, — but he did not seize her in 
his arms, he did not embrace her, he did not place 
her head on his breast and look down into those 
lovely upturned eyes while covering her red-ripe 
lips with burning kisses, though, God knows, all 
this he longed to do, was tempted to do, fought hard 
against doing, and might have done in welcome ! 

Instead of this he only bowed : “ Come when- 
ever you wish, — to sign the papers. They will 
be ready in a week.” 

Again she passed out. She reached the stairs, 
and turned again, looking back to him standing 
in the doorway. 

“Do you still think me Mary, Scotland’s 
queen ?” she asked. 

He trembled as he stood looking at her. One 
w T ord and she would return to him ; one sign and 
she would be by his side ; one look and he would 
h 10* 


114 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


hold her sighing in his arms. But he spoke not 
the word, made not the sign, gave not the look. 
He only said, — 

“Madam, more than ever before. Farewell.” 

A moment later she descended the stairs, entered 
her carriage, and drove away ; and as the sounds 
from the street crept up in muffled monotone upon 
the ear, it seemed to the solitary occupant of the 
office a sad and lonely day. 

The following day William saw Mr. Worthing- 
ton. He stated his business frankly and in short 
terms, and asked that the divorce might not be 
resisted and the case tried, but that the separation 
might be effected without publicity or scandal. 
This could be done by formal proof by the com- 
plainant before a master in chancery at a pri- 
vate office, if the defendant made no contest. Mr. 
Worthington listened with respectful attention to 
the end, though he was throughout the interview 
very formal, politely sarcastic, and frigidly cold. 
When his visitor had ended, he pointed his long 
bony forefinger at the window in the office-door, 
through which could be seen the busy establish- 
ment over which he presided. 

“ Look there !” he said. “ Observe my money- 
making machine! Observe its magnitude, strength, 
and efficiency ! Is it not admirable?” 

It was freely confessed that the establishment 
was all that he claimed for it. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


115 


i( It is mine,” he added, with a chuckle ; “ all 
mine! What man can say as much of a woman?” 

That was a way of putting a point in an argu- 
ment, doubtless, but his visitor, not being there to 
argue the case, remained silent. 

The old man proceeded, with feeling: “If I 
was not satisfied in my advanced years with this 
wealth-producing monster, to build up which I 
gave my youth and manhood, but wished to cheer 
my heart with other pleasures, to please myself 
with a young wife and a fine home, to hope even 
that I myself might be loved by a woman, why, 
I was mistaken and a fool for my pains. I might 
have known the outcome without trying the ex- 
periment. Now, young sir, do not imagine that I 
regret anything, except that I was a fool. I regret 
that, certainly. That my wife wants a divorce 
gives me no regret whatever. I have known all 
about this for some time, and if I ever had any 
regret it is past. So long as I am rich I shall not 
lack for friends. In this fine world anything can 
be bought if one has but the money, — merchan- 
dise is made of everything, from the virtue of a 
woman to the conscience of a lawyer, — no offense 
meant, I assure you. Money, sir, is the only true 
friend to man. It is enduring as the hills; the 
same yesterday, to-day, and forever. Why should 
I try to hinder my wife in her little scheme? She 
publicly shows her dislike for me, and publicly 


116 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


declares she will not live with me. "What her 
motive may be I do not know, and do not care. 
It is sufficient that she shows dislike for me. I 
do not wish to be married to a woman who does 
not wish to live with me. Young gentleman, I 
shall make no objection ; divorce us at once ; the 
sooner the better. Good-afternoon.” 

Thus the cool and sagacious Mr. Worthington 
promptly disposed of his visitor and his wife in 
five minutes’ time. He and his visitor never met 
again. 

Perhaps it was fit that afterwards Harry, as one 
of her oldest friends, should have acted as adviser 
to Mrs. Worthington in the settlement of all 
money and property rights involved in the di- 
vorce, and that these matters should have been 
adjusted finally by mutual consent of the parties 
through Harry as the medium of communication 
between them. 

But throughout these legal proceedings the in- 
terviews between counsel and client were, I fear, 
needlessly numerous, frequent, and protracted. 
That little office in Broad Street, with the name 
“ William Smith, Lawyer,” on the door, received 
the fair presence of the radiant Mrs. Worthington 
almost daily. They knew now that whatever of 
friendship had existed between them heretofore 
that friendship was far deeper now. They knew 
that with every step in the case that should alter 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


117 


their relation towards each other that friendship 
deepened more and more. She was quite willing 
that this should be so. He Avas enraptured that 
it was so. He could not wish it to be other- 
wise. This woman’s presence came like a sun- 
beam into his lonely office to cheer and comfort 
him in his solitary study and work. The recital 
of her wrongs stirred his deepest indignation, the 
narration of her sufferings reached the tenderest 
chords of his being, and her supreme beauty as 
she told the story of her life captivated his soul. 

But it was all over at last, the case was ended, 
and a decree was granted dissolving the marriage 
and setting aside to the lady large securities of 
sure income, together with the beautiful home in 
which she lived as her own ; and Harry, with the 
legal document in his hand, flew like another 
Ganymede to this Minerva bearing the happy 
news. 

One week later William sat in his office among 
his books reflecting over the past. He spoke aloud. 

“ There is nothing further to call us together, 
for with the ending of her cask my duty ends 
also. Heaven bless her ! At last she is free and 
her delightful home is hers alone. May her life 
in its sunny rooms be long and happy !” 

Then he thought of himself. How rich to him 
had been her rare friendship, the hospitality of 
her home, the influence of her patronage in secur- 


118 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


ing him business, — truly she had been his guardian 
angel ! 

As he thought thus the image of the lady rose 
before him in the full glory of her resplendent 
beauty. The touch of her hand, the glance from 
her eyes, the witchery of her manner were upon 
him. The rich music of her voice, the faint per- 
fume of her dress, still lingered in the room, — 
why, let there be no more disguise, he loved this 
woman. 

Ay, with the strength, earnestness, and passion 
of a man who never loved before, and now loves 
utterly, he loved her ! He stopped not to reason, 
he thought not of consequences, he only felt that 
if ever man loved he loved, if ever man madly 
loved he madly loved this woman ! 

Scarcely a week had passed since they last met. 
Yet there had been no hour of that time in which 
he did not long to see her, as though they had been 
separated for years. 

And now, what did he mean to do with that 
love? Could he easily lay it aside like a worn 
glove and contentedly return to the paths of learn- 
ing with the old-time ardor? Could he pluck it 
out of his heart like an arrow from a wound and 
look forward to the future with the old hope? 
Could he forget it and be true to the past and its 
promises, true to himself and the little woman 
waiting to be his wife in Slopingdale ? 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


119 


The agonizing inquiry was right before him, 
not to be put by ; it was there clamoring for pres- 
ent answer, and demanding immediate decision. 

Perturbed, feverish, all his faculties in a tumult, 
he turned to a little drawer in his desk and took 
therefrom a carefully-kept package of letters. 
They were all in one handwriting, a woman’s, and 
were dated from week to week through several 
years, and bore the post-mark of Slopingdale. 
He read them through from the first to the last. 
What hope, confidence, truth, and trust was in. 
them all ! How clearly shone out from those 
pages the long-suffering, constantly-abiding love 
of woman ! Again and again he read the last 
letter ; here it is : 

“Slopingdale, — — , 18 — . 

“Dear William, — I was so glad to get your 
letter ! I think sometimes you cannot know how 
unhappy I feel when you 4elay writing to me, or 
you would write more frequently. There may be 
little to say, there may be nothing, yet say that 
you love me and I will welcome your letters every 
day. It is now six years since I looked into your 
face, and, oh, how long a time it seems ! Oh,, the 
sorrow and pain of waiting through these long 
and weary years ! Darling, you know how truly, 
how faithfully, my promise has been kept! My 
heart has never known another love but yours. It 


120 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


will never know any other. Now here my prom- 
ise I again renew: ‘ I will be true.\ God knows I 
shall keep that promise to the end of life. Write 
often. From your affectionate love, 

“ Jennie.” 

He put the letter aside on the desk and sighed, 
for there came just then before his mind in all its 
original charm that old scene of years ago in the 
country woods back of Slopingdale. Again, in 
vivid distinctness, it opens out before his gaze, and 
he sees the sky unclouded through the moving 
branches of complaining trees, the crimson glory 
of sunset on the hills, and hears the lowing cattle, 
the shouts of happy children, and the lovers* inter- 
view of plighted troth to be broken nevermore. 
His eyes grow dim with threatened tears whilst he 
looks upon that almost forgotten page of memory 
which was once so treasured and thinks of Jennie 
Carey’s faithful, trusting love, and his folded 
hands receive the tears at last as they fall in 
scalding drops as he confesses that he has not de- 
served such constant faith and devotion. 

Oh, warring loves that rend the stoutest hearts, 
how dearly bought are thy agonizing victories! 
In such a conflict, the greatest battle that can 
come to man, Heaven help thee, poor victim, that 
thou mayest come forth conqueror in the strength 
of the right ! 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


121 


The day was closing gloomily, when the door 
opened, and Harry Ashleigh hastily strode in and 
stood before his friend. 

His appearance was greatly changed. His face 
was flushed, his dress untidy, his manner reckless. 
With wild, bloodshot eyes he fiercely glared at his 
friend without speaking a word. 

Perhaps William possessed the common weak- 
ness of man and was ashamed of tears, for he did 
not look up, but rose and walked to the window 
wiping his eyes, then turned and encountered that 
fixed and resolute gaze. 

It caused him to recoil. At first he thought 
Harry a madman. It was only for a moment. 
On looking more closely into those gleaming eyes 
he knew it was not madness but anger, not insan- 
ity but rage that rankled there, rage directed to- 
wards himself. This he was sure of before the 
man spoke a word, and, therefore, was prepared 
for it when that word should come. It came 
quickly. 

“ So then at last we understand each other ! ” 
hissed Ashleigh, overcome with anger. “ You — 
you, whom I took to be my friend, are my rival! 
You — you, whom I trusted, would use me as a 
stepping-stone to the love of the one woman on 
earth that I ever loved ! Why have you done me 
this wrong ? Why have you done it under a mask 
of hypocrisy, pretending all the while to hold such 
F 11 


122 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


high and noble views of life? Oh, you are a 
spectacle to gaze at, — a worthy, honest, honorable 
young man ! A valiant gentleman to rob his 
friend of his lady-love ! But you shall not escape 
me. This is a serious matter. It is not to be set- 
tled, I warn you, by a smooth speech from an oily 
tongue. It must be settled by the death, — ay, 
the death of one of us !” 

William remained seated all through this fierce 
arraignment and waited thus its end. He grew 
paler and cooler every moment, and when Harry 
ceased speaking he found himself before the cool- 
est, calmest man, with face of ashen white and 
marble sternness, out of which glittered two pierc- 
ingly bright steel-blue eyes. 

Harry was greeted with a sneering laugh : 
“ Harry Ashleigh, you are excited — or drunk ; 
suppose I call it unreasoning rage. In such con- 
dition you are unfit to either talk or fight. To- 
morrow ” Harry attempted to rush upon 

him, but restrained himself to listen. 

“ To-morrow, — what then ?” he asked. 

“ To-morrow,” continued William, “ I will give 
you every satisfaction you want, though upon my 
word I know not what you are talking about.” 

Harry made a gesture of impatience : “ Oh, 
play no longer the hypocrite. I speak of Lilian 
Worthington.” 

“ Lilian Worthington f” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


123 


“ Yes. You know her, do you not?” 

“ Great Heaven !” 

Harry smiled scornfully : “ Why, that is finely 
done. It is exceedingly well done for an amateur *, 
I confess ; but let us have no more acting in this 
business. There shall be real work from this time 
forward, — to-morrow give me satisfaction.” 

“ I will,” William replied, gravely; “but hear 
me now one minute. I do not pretend to be ig- 
norant of the meaning of this visit, — it means a 
quarrel. Very well, you shall have it, but not on 
the ground of robbery. I have not robbed you. 
You are the first to tell me the tale that you and 
Lilian Worthington were lovers. When ? I 
never knew it before. I can scarcely believe it 
now. What then ? Simply that I could not have 
robbed you of her love. Rob, — rob you ! Why, 
it is scarcely one week that she is free to know any 
love save a husband’s. How, — whence comes 
your right to speak of her love and its robbery ? 
And still if you were her betrothed husband and 
she your plighed bride I am blameless, for she 
will bear me witness that I have ever treated her 
with deference and never spoke to her of love. 
Besides ” 

“Stop there!” Harry cried. “I came here di- 
rectly from her presence. I claimed the fulfil- 
ment of her promise and asked her to be my wife, 
and she refused. She would give me no reason 


124 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


for the change, for she did love me once, — surely 
she did love me once. When I demanded why 
she now refused me she was silent. Then I told 
her that only one man was the cause of the 
change in her, and that man was yourself. ‘For 
Heaven’s sake quarrel not with him !’ she cried, 
taking my hand and pleading for you ; and by this 
I know that she loves you. Oh, God, how I have 
loved that woman 1” And Harry threw himself 
upon a chair and bowed his head. 

His friend, touched by his condition, approached 
and spoke kindly to him. 

“ Hal, this is childish conduct by both of us. 
You little know how you wrong me !” 

“ She loves you, I tell you, and you must fight.” 

“ Listen,” went on his friend, still quietly and 
kindly. “All misunderstanding can readily be 
removed without a quarrel. There is absolutely 
no call to fight. Besides, I ask you what good 
can possibly come by one of us killing the other ? 
Suppose that I am killed, will that help your suit 
with her ? Ho you think she will love and marry 
you after you become a murderer ?” (Harry vis- 
ibly shuddered here.) “ And if she loves me as you 
allege, will you be dearer to her for killing me? 
On the other hand, suppose you are killed, what 
then is your gain or satisfaction, and what mine ?” 

Harry started up, made one step forward, 
stopped, then contemptuously turned to the door. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 125 

“ You are a coward!” he hissed. “You can 
argue, but you cannot fight !” 

Upon the utterance of that word “coward” 
William took a grip on his desk as he felt the 
hot blood mounting to his temples. His nerves 
became like steel and his strength superhuman. 
But he controlled himself perfectly. Pointing to 
the door, he said, — 

“ Ashleigh, you may go now. You are right, 
we must fight. Nothing less than a fight will do 
after that word. Fear not that I will fail you. 
You shall have ample justice and full satisfaction, 
— the weapons pistols, at this hour to-morrow at 
the usual place. You know it.” 

“ The Park?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ To-morrow at this hour I will be there.” 
“And I ” 

And the door closed upon the departing Ash- 
leigh. William looked at his watch, and saw it 
lacked a quarter of six o’clock. He remembered 
how well they both knew the place of meeting, — 
a spot in the Park retired and secure from obser- 
vation, long a favorite lounging-place for these 
friends in the old friendly days, and he shuddered 
as he thought how different from those others this 
meeting would be, and sighed, saying, “ He would 
have it so, — and perhaps he was right. And he, 
too, loves this woman !” 

11 * 


126 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


The thought brought the wonderful revelation 
of that visit fully before him. Had she been 
playing with him ? Was it possible that all their 
pleasant intercourse was but a web to entangle his 
heart in love for her while she cared nothing for 
him ? Was she after all only a flirt, a coquette, 
amusing herself by destroying the peace and life 
of every man she met ? He could not believe it. 

It was true, then, that this fascinating woman 
really loved him. Ah, how dearly he loved her ! 
She had refused Ashleigh for him ! She was 
waiting to accept him whenever he should offer 
her his heart that had so long been hers ! 

And this woman had infatuated Harry as well 
as himself whilst she was still a married woman ! 
This, then, was Harry’s love, often spoken of and 
never named, the object of his adoration in all 
their conversations, and the subject of his fevered 
rhapsody on his sick-bed. It was this woman he 
had so long loved, and not the slender sylph-like 
blonde with the bluest of eyes, or the contented 
brunette with a dimple coming and going with 
her smile, — this woman, this charming woman, 
who liad parted with husband first and lover next 
for what? — for his love! 

Could it all be true ? 

And now, was his fair client to become his 
wife? 

Should he at the last, after all the struggles 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOD 


127 


against this denied but overpowering love, over- 
leap the claims of honor, break his plighted faith 
and his Jennie’s heart, and marry this fascinating 
woman ? 

He bowed his head upon the desk and thought ; 
but he was too much confused in mind, too griev- 
ously stirred in heart by the events and thoughts 
of the hour to resolve his course. He sat think- 
ing till the clock struck six, — and then another 
surprise awaited him. He rose in the gathering 
twilight to go home, opened the office-door, heard 
the fall of light footsteps on the stairs and the 
rustle of trailing drapery in the hall, saw a form 
advance towards him in the doorway, stepped for- 
ward and confronted — Lilian Worthington. 

“ Lilian !” 

“ William !” 

That exquisitely torturing meeting might well 
be passed by with mere mention, for no descrip- 
tion can convey the fulness of its meaning or the 
sadness of its sorrow. Standing there face to face 
in the gloaming, it was clear to both that they had 
now reached that pivotal point in their lives from 
whence should flow the destiny of each from that 
night’s conference. She looked pale, and per- 
ceptibly trembled as she hurriedly entered the 
room. 

“ There has been no quarrel between you and 
Ashleigh — yet?” she asked, swiftly advancing to 


128 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


William, her hands crossed and pressed hard on 
her bosom, as if to stifle the inward tumult which 
in quickened heart-throbs rose and fell with her 
breath. 

William dropped his eyes and shook his head. 

“ Then thank God !” she cried, sinking into a 
chair. “ Oh, let me speak !” she pled, with clasped 
hands raised to him as he was about to approach. 
“ Let me urge you by my prayers, by everything 
sacred, not to see Ashleigh, not to meet him for a 
couple days, not to listen to him if you meet him, 
not to quarrel or fight with him. I left him not 
an hour ago, and he threatens you ; promise me !” 

William smiled grimly, — it was clear she did 
not know they had met already, and she need not 
know. He would not tell her. He drew a chair 
to him and sat beside her. 

“Be calm,” he said; “I shall not see him till 
to-morrow, and shall not think of quarrelling with 
him ; but why does he threaten me ?” 

“ I loved that man once,” she went on, rapidly. 
“I loved him well, deeply, utterly. This you 
must know now, though I hoped you would never 
learn it. I loved him, and yet when he came to 
me to-day and asked me to be his wife I refused 
him. Why ? Can you guess ?” 

She had thrown her mantle from her shoulders 
and slipped her gloves from her jewelled hands 
as she spoke, and now sat close beside him, her wil- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


129 


lowy form clearly outlined in the twilight against 
the glowing sky as the fairest ideal of a lovely 
loving woman. 

William did not reply ; he could not. There 
were emotions struggling for mastery within his 
breast which choked his speech. 

“ There was a woman once/’ she continued, lay- 
ing her white, warm hand in his, “ who loved a 
man and was true to him. But she met another 
man who became her friend, and he came to be 
the only object of her thought by day and of her 
dreams by night. The love for the first man waned 
and passed away; it was replaced by love for the 
friend. The image of the first man was effaced 
from her heart ; the image of the friend replaced 
it. Then at last she felt what love meant; she 
had never loved before, — she loved her lover-friend 
alone supremely, devotedly, wondrously.” 

She withdrew her hand slowly, gazing steadily 
at him as she did so; but when he looked at her 
and remained silent, she dropped her long lashes 
over those dangerous eyes' and impulsively rose 
and swiftly walked to the window, saying, — 

“ Do you ask me now why he threatens you ?” 

She waited at the window a long time till his 
continued silence oppressed her. She waited at 
the window till his steady patience wearied her. 
She waited at the window expecting that he would 
call her to him, that he would come to her, that 


130 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


he would understand, speak, and be rapturously 
answered. But she waited at the window in 
vain. He still sat there beside the vacant chair 
with bowed head, immovable, irresponsive, silent. 
Swiftly, like an enamored girl to her lover, she 
turned towards him and crept close to his side. 

She smiled into his eyes : “ You are that lover- 
friend and I am that woman l” 

William uttered a cry and sank on his knee at 
her feet. “ God bless you always !” he said. 

Swiftly she continued : “ No man knows the 
depths of a woman’s love. Modesty would pre- 
vent this confession at another time ; it is un- 
womanly and trying, but I have become the cause 
of a threatened quarrel in which life may be taken. 
Can I keep silent whilst that picture burns into 
my brain? You will forgive me, will you not? 
You will avoid Ashleigh ? for he means to — to 
kill you. Oh, beware !” 

“ Forgive, forgive you !” exclaimed William. 
“ Ah, it is I need forgiveness, your full forgive- 
ness ! Give it me now ; this moment !” 

“ I do forgive you freely !” she replied, ques- 
tioningly ; then impulsively, “ Rash woman that 
I am to bare my soul to your eyes ! What remains 
to conceal ? — you can take heart and soul !” 

And with a swift gesture she bowed her head 
on his breast and clasped her arms about his 
shoulders, and lifted her mute lips and pleading 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 131 

eyes full to his gaze. Thus for a long time they 
looked into each other’s eyes. 

There was utter silence save for the measured 
ticking of the office-clock, and darkness except 
for the reflected sheen of light from the street- 
lamps upon the windows. The new moon was 
just creeping into view out of the mass of sombre 
clouds. 

They moved not. While he gently smoothed 
the wavy brown hair from that low white brow 
and looked into the heavenly depths of those great 
blue, melting eyes, she secretly entwined her fin- 
gers together and clasped him in her yielding 
arms of love. Then it was that she felt herself 
suddenly grasped and lifted from her chair and 
gathered close to his breast in strong arms as 
though she were a child and held there unresist- 
ing, while a shower of kisses rained fast upon 
her receptive lips. Then jshe felt herself released 
and gently placed in the office easy-chair, and he 
stood before her silently contemplating her in the 
moonlight. She looked up into his eyes expecting 
a declaration of love, but he turned from her and 
walked to the window. 

“ William!” she muttered. “My God, he is 
leaving me !” She clasped her hands and sat 
watching him. 

What swift thoughts crowded his perturbed 
mind during that five minutes that he stood there 


132 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


so silent and immovable no man but himself ever 
knew. He looked out upon the cloudy sky and 
down upon the deserted street and thought of the 
bright prospects ready to open before him. All 
that life could give or wish desire, love, home, 
wealth, friends, honor, and the respect of men, 
all that he had so long hoped for and labored so 
hard to gain, could be had through the sweet 
words of this waiting, loving, willing woman. His 
future lay all glorious in that agitated woman’s 
jewelled hand; the hand hung drooping like a 
lily waiting to be lifted to his lips. With all the 
means of success in life thus at immediate com- 
mand, with leisure, station, culture, wealth, and 
influence for his own, what could not his ambition 
accomplish ? There need be no more watchful 
toil to secure a livelihood from day to day through 
long years of care and want; no more painful 
planning and self-denials to procure needed books 
and the sweet food of knowledge; no more weary 
battling with belittling cares or struggles with 
needs that shrink the soul and sap the strength 
of life ; no more prejudice from men or denial of 
sympathy, help, and friendship ; no more obscur- 
ity, and poverty, and unrewarded toil. 

What a change comes over human life by alter- 
ing its surroundings ! Toil is joy when attended 
by conditions of comfort and independence ; self- 
denial is happiness when exercised at will and not 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


133 


by force ; a purpose of life is dignified when pur- 
sued for itself and not to earn a living; prejudice 
disappears with the furrowed marks of care when 
they are wiped from the sweating cheek, and sym- 
pathy, affection, and love come so easily to inde- 
pendent homes and find truest expression where 
art shines, music swells, and flowers ever bloom ! 

And why not accept the proffered gift ? Why 
hesitate, why refuse it? Would Ashleigh have 
acted thus ! His standard was what the world 
would approve. Would not the world approve 
this prosperous match? Would it not commend 
and esteem him wise if he should reach forth his 
hand and secure all the advantages of life now 
so easily to be acquired ? 

He was engaged to fight the man who was his 
rival. He had been his friend and was now his 
enemy. What claim had Ashleigh upon him 
except satisfaction at the muzzle of the pistol ? 

Slopingdale, — Jennie Carey, — honored vows, — 
truth, — right, — these are mere phrases that may 
mean much or little, as a man may happen to be 
circumstanced, and just now all circumstances 
prove them to be little things compared with this 
golden opportunity. 

Evidently his plain duty was to kill this man 
and marry this woman, that being manifestly the 
proper course in the opinion of the world. 

Or, better still, he need not fight at all ; he can 
12 


134 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


simply avoid the fight and look up his assailant 
for violation of law in proposing a fight, and marry 
the woman at once. 

How easy it is to do wrong, how hard to do 
right ! 

When at last he turned from the window and 
approached her, he took her hand and raised her 
to his side, and they stood by the mantel, standing 
so still together that the moonlight covering them 
carved them into statues. 

“Lilian,” he said, “you know without the tell- 
ing how dear your words are to me, — words that 
fall like showers of joy upon my parched heart ; 
but answer me : you loved Ashleigh, did you 
never promise him your hand?” 

She looked straight into his eyes and replied, 
“I did ; but it was long ago; before I knew you, 
before I loved ” 

Harry was right, then ; she had loved him and 
promised him. It was one more reason to fix his 
unalterable resolution. 

“ Then, Lilian, we are not free to walk side by 
side through life as man and wife,” he continued, 
calmly. “You have pledged your love to one 
who, relying upon it, has been true and constant 
in his love for you, be you therefore true and con- 
stant to him. He loves you as only a man with 
his ardent, impetuous nature can love a woman. 
When he comes to you again, as he will, send him 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


135 


not away, but accept him. He will regain his old 
place in your heart and you will both be happy. 
As for myself, see this.” And he placed the 
crumpled letter lying open on the desk in her 
hands. 

She walked to the window, and by the half- 
light entering there she read, “ I will be true,” 
and caught with eager eyes the simple signature, 
“ Jennie.” She started, and the letter dropped 
from her grasp and fell in gyral courses to the 
floor. 

“ You see,” he proceeded, coming to her side, 
“ I am also bound by a promise. And by God’s 
help I mean to keep that promise as faithfully as 
she has kept hers. Upon this resolve I am unal- 
terably fixed, — nothing, not even your love, which 
to me is heaven, can move me. And when I tell 
you this, and you remember all the sweet time that 
we have known each other, and that our parting 
will take the sunshine out of the world and the 
glory out of life itself, you will know that I am 
not holding your love in light esteem nor think- 
ing of myself, but only trying to obey the voice 
of duty and live as a true man.” 

Lilian’s lips grew pale and her eyes flashed. 
“You love her , then?” she demanded, impe- 
riously. 

“ Yes.” 

He sought to take her hand, and for a moment 


136 


A* PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


the jewelled, nervous little hand trembled in his 
grasp, but she at once withdrew it, and anger, 
scorn, and mortified pride played over her features 
and shone from her eyes as she drew herself up 
proudly before him. A period of weakness fol- 
lowed, and tears and sobs and reproaches, much 
harder to endure than her scorn. 

But in that brief moment he led her to her seat 
and pled with her on behalf of Ashleigh and for 
forgiveness for himself, and the glimmering moon- 
beams saw how the romance faded out of life in 
the separation of lovers. Even in such conver- 
sation the moments sped that witnessed their 
parting, and when she rose to go, his last words 
impressed themselves upon her memory so that 
she never forgot them. 

“ It is best to love but one,” he said, u and to 
be true to one forever ; for true hearts are more 
than diadems, and honored vows than plaudits of 
the world !” 

And so they parted, the honor of the man 
having been preserved in holding faith with his 
friend and keeping his promise to his first love, 
— parted thus thinking never to meet again, — 
parted as by death ; and when the rattling sounds 
of carriage- wheels had gradually merged into a 
far-away echo a solitary man still stood alone in 
Broad Street with tearful eyes lifted to the stars. 


CHAPTER IX. 


11 1 shall grieve down this blow, — 

What does not man grieve down?” 

Coleridge. 

The next day at the appointed hour the two 
friends met to fight. The duello is no longer the 
approved mode of settling personal difficulties in 
civilized communities, — and yet much might be 
said in its favor, even in these days when the most 
urgent need of society seems to be a high sense of 
honor, personal bravery, and immediate account- 
ability for acts and words and conduct. 

During that long day each was often sorry for 
his anger and deplored the necessity of meeting 
as enemies to kill each other. But their out- 
ward demeanor showed little or nothing of the 
inner conflict of feelings, for never were men ap- 
parently more calm and self-possessed. Ashleigh, 
smarting under the sting of defeat in his suit of 
love, was fully determined to revenge himself, and 
lie made his preparations for the fight as if it were 
a foregone conclusion that he would kill his man. 
He went about his business all the day as usual, 
and when evening came repaired to his home and 
dined, then to his rooms, where he loaded two 
12 * 137 


138 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


pistols and put them in his pockets, then he passed 
out of the house and turned the corner down the 
street. He had not met his friend. He wrote no 
line, left no word, and no one knew his deadly 
errand save himself, his antagonist, and God. 

William passed the day locked in his office, 
buried in thought. He wrote letters and direc- 
tions concerning his business, and put his house 
in order against the contingency that he might 
never return. He prayed a little, too, — it was a 
long time since he last prayed, — during the lone- 
someness of the day, and felt better for it. When 
evening came, he arranged his papers on his desk, 
and passed out to supper; after which he entered 
a carriage, and was rapidly driven up Broadway, 
out Harlem Lane, and down the broad driveway 
of the Central Park. 

That journey to the scene of the duel was 
doubtless a long one to both men, measuring time 
by thoughts and heart-beats and remembrance of 
a past life. 

Life is never so sweet as when we are about to 
die ! It is a relief to be suddenly freed from a 
great trouble and to know that a heavy weight is 
lifted from a weary life. It is a delight to be set 
at liberty after long imprisonment and to feel the 
cramp of bondage superseded by the light and 
beauty and freedom of the world. But to escape 
impending death, and to know that all danger is 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOD 139 

passed, and not death but life stretches before, 
this is inexpressible bliss! 

It had long been a habit of William to under- 
rate the value of human life, unless it produced 
something worthy. He had been wont to draw 
comparisons between the lives of men, estimating 
them on a scale of value according to achievements 
wrought, and calling some good, others worth- 
less, and still others worse than worthless, in 
which last class he had since yesterday placed his 
own life. But now he looked through changed 
eyes. He realized during the drive what he had 
not well considered before, that every man, what- 
ever may be his station or his trouble, still clings 
wildly and desperately to life. He did not know 
till then how fully he felt himself to be a part of 
that moving throng of humanity that poured along 
the streets, himself filled in every pulse with the 
restless energy of being which laughed, wept, and 
hurried by all around him. And thinking these 
thoughts his mind seized hold of the world with 
a new impulse born of the later knowlege, and his 
heart yearned to continue its beating in the world 
and not be stilled in the sleep of death. There 
came before him the image of his aged mother as 
he remembered the past, and he saw her sitting there 
in her lonely country home, waiting and watch- 
ing through troubled years for the coming of her 
boy, whose living face she might never look upon 


140 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


again. Then he dashed a hand over his eyes, 
gulped down something that persisted in rising in 
his throat, and forced his thinking into other 
channels. 

The marble palaces one by one swept to the 
rear along the route, the roomy mansions of aris- 
tocratic grandeur flitted past, the open grounds 
circled into view, their frosted tree-tops glistening 
in the evening sun, then the open park stretched 
wide and far away before, and the carriage 
whirled into it and down the driveway to the 
Ramble. 

He alighted and noticed that Harry had not yet 
arrived. He looked at his watch and saw that it 
lacked five minutes of the appointed time. At a 
sign the driver remounted his box and drove away. 
The air was chilly, and all the summer-time 
beauty of the spot had disappeared. There had 
been a rain the night before, followed by freezing, 
and a thin crust of ice covered the earth and coated 
the branches and twigs of the trees. Off in the 
distance rested the city under a cloudy February 
sky, its spires just tipped with the lingering rays 
of the setting sun. 

There was a little foot-path leading from the 
driveway into a cosey little retreat of rocks and 
trees, and running completely around the hill 
rising in the midst. The path was quite narrow 
and hid by the rocks and trees from observation, 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


141 


and was about one hundred feet in length circling 
the hill. 

Ashleigh soon made his appearance. He was ac- 
companied by a gentleman with white hair, black 
eyes, and beard, wearing a military cloak and cap, 
who at once took charge of the combatants and 
made all suggestions, to which they each assented, 
except to one suggestion that they should shake 
hands and be friends, the only really sensible 
suggestion then and there made. 

Harry had little of the appearance of a man 
bent on so serious a business as a duel, for he was 
dressed in full evening costume, and carried him- 
self with as graceful and careless an air as he was 
wont to assume on entering a ball-room. 

The men took their places. They stood back 
to back in the little path which ran around the 
hill, and were to walk away from each other, still 
following' the circling path until they caught sight 
of each other on the opposite side, when each was 
to fire once, — a very simple and deadly arrange- 
ment. 

The military gentleman, performing the impar- 
tial duties of second to both men, took his station 
on the brow of the hill holding a handkerchief in 
his hand, which being dropped should be the sig- 
nal to proceed. When all was ready, and the 
men stood there back against back in the narrow 
path, in the right hand of each a loaded pistol 


142 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


ready cocked and finger on the trigger waiting for 
the signal, the slight figure and pale face of 
William stood in marked contrast to the dark and 
manly Harry in his closely-buttoned black coat; 
and even the military gentleman,, a nobly-moulded 
form of martial bearing, lacked somewhat in 
comparison with this impassioned theatrical-man- 
nered Ashleigh, with his self-contained air and 
piercing eyes. 

Did they not think, as they stood thus touching 
each other, of the past days of friendly companion- 
ship? and did not those thoughts touch their hearts 
and compel them to stay their murderous hands? 
Whatever of regret for their quarrel or sorrow for 
the past they may have felt, and doubtless such 
thoughts oppressed them, they were conscious of 
no way of settling that quarrel or quieting the 
wrong of the past save a present fight. Had not 
each injured the other ? Then each must endeavor 
to kill the other, — such, still holds the wise world, 
is justice, the attribute of Deity ! 

Twilight had began to envelop the earth in a 
mantle of gray when the stern inquiry came from 
the brow of the hill, — 

“ Are you ready ?” 

The sound aroused both men, and they looked 
up at the gentleman on the hill, and intently 
watched the hand holding the handkerchief. 

Then came the signal. “One — two — three!” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 143 

he cried, and, at the last word, dropped the hand- 
kerchief. 

With a quick, determined step Ashleigh sprang 
forward, and walked swiftly down the little path 
as it wound in a curve around the hill, his eye 
shining like an angry fire, his lips compressed in 
firm resolve, and his pistol extended before him 
in a wicked aim along the path. 

Not so, however, his antagonist, who walked 
slowly but firmly along the path, keeping his arm 
immovably at his side and his eyes steadily fixed 
on the curve of the hill before him. 

There was a death-like pause for a minute, 
then suddenly the report of a discharged pistol, 
and the men stood in sight of each other scarcely 
ten paces apart. From the smoke curling up the 
side of the hill it was observed that Ashleigh only 
had fired. He had now thrown his useless weapon 
on the ground, with a muttered curse, as he saw 
that he had missed his man, saw his foe un- 
harmed, advancing upon him to within three 
paces, when he stopped, raised his pistol, and 
levelled it full at Ashleigh’s breast. 

“ Fire !” in commanding tone, cried the mili- 
tary gentleman, hurrying down the hill-side. 

Ashleigh closed his eyes and lifted his face to 
the sky, while his lips moved in the offering of a 
prayer. His face was pale and his lips trembled. 
“ For God’s sake,” he pled, “ don’t prolong sus- 


144 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


pense, but fire, — fire now ! ” And lie bent forward 
as if to receive the charge in his breast. 

“ Well, then, Harry Ashleigh, I fire thus, — not 
at the heart of a friend I love, but into the un- 
harmed air!” And, as he spoke, William dis- 
charged his weapon over his head, and threw it 
behind him among the trees. 

Ashleigh started forward, his face radiant with 
joy. It was as though his life had been wrested 
from him and given back to him again, as though 
he had been rescued from the horrors of death 
and the tomb to live and enjoy the glory of the 
world once more. It was a delicious moment of 
happiness and interrupted speech, but it lasted 
only a moment, for he had hardly reached his 
antagonist’s side before William grew deathly 
pale, staggered, and fell. On the ground where 
he lay were drops of blood, his left hand was 
covered with it, his sleeve soaked with it as it 
flowed from the wound in his arm, for he had 
been struck after all, and his left arm was broken. 

The old duellist bent over the wounded man, 
tearing open the sleeve to find the wound ; he 
bathed and deftly bandaged the arm and placed 
it in a sling. “ It is only a slight scratch,” he 
said, “and we must attend to it, and the gentle- 
man will soon be healed.” 

When the wounded man opened his eyes and 
saw Ashleigh bending over him with something 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


145 


of the old-time tenderness in his face, he turned 
to him and reached out his hand, which Ashleigh 
grasped as he knelt down by his side. For a 
moment the two men looked into each other’s eyes 
without speaking. They looked at each other and 
tightened the hand-clasp and said nothing. Then 
darkness fell between and covered them with its 
sable mantle, and they spoke together without 
seeing each other. 

“Bill, I meant to kill you. God forgive 
me !” 

“Don’t say a word about it, Hal. I forgive 
you everything. We were both to blame, and it’s 
all over and past.” 

“Over and past, Bill, for me. I accept the 
result, and resign the woman. You are deserving 
of her love.” 

“ Not so, Hal. Lilian shall yet be your wife. 
I know she loves you still.” 

“ How?” 

“ It is true.” 

“Forgive me, Bill. But she did love me — 
once.” 

“ And does still.” 

“ How do you know this?” 

The wounded man moved uneasily : “ I saw 
her before this meeting, and took leave of her — 
forever.” 

“You ?” 

G k 


18 


146 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


“ Yes ; you believe me, do you not?” 

u Bill, I do believe you.” 

And the conversation dropped to whispers, for 
the wounded man was growing weak ; but even in 
whispers a world of meaning passed between them 
before they parted. After a long while Harry 
again spoke aloud. 

“ And thus you give me life and love, — thus 
bestow on me, who would have killed you, a glo- 
rious future ! This is, indeed, friendship, and I can 
never forgive myself for wishing to destroy you.” 
“ Hal !” 

“ Bill !” 

“ I have only tried to do right, — and you were 
angry. Only live worthily and you will be 
happy.” 

“ And you say she knows nothing of our quar- 
rel ?” 

“ Not a word.” 

u And she loves me and will marry me ?” 

“ Yes.” 

It was dangerous ground, and the answer came 
low and weak and accompanied with a sigh from 
the suffering man, racked by physical and mental 
anguish, but it came like a benison to him listen- 
ing there. 

u I never meant to fire upon yon, Hal,” went 
on the halting, feeble voice, after another interval 
of silence ; “ but you taunted me with hypocrisy 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOD 


147 


and cowardice, you remember, and it was that re- 
proach that brought me here; it was impossible 
to show you your mistake in any other way, and 
therefore we met.” 

“ I was wrong, Bill ; I acknowledge it.” 

“ And now, Hal, farewell !” 

“ Not farewell, for I shall go home with you !” 

“No.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ We must part.” 

“ Not while you have that wound.” 

“It will soon heal at the hospital. No, Hal; 
having performed my duty we must part, and for- 
ever. I shall leave the city when I am strong 
again ; the world is wide, and I shall not want 
for a home. As for yourself, your future is as- 
sured ; it will be all that you wished and planned 
and hoped. See to it that you ennoble it with 
your life. Be very kind to her . And when you 
think of me sometimes in the happy days to come, 
try to remember that I was your friend, try to 
think of me as a quiet, unknown man who once 
did you a favor.” 

Ashleigh’s reply was interrupted by the ap- 
proach of the polite and manly soldier, who came 
between them to lift the young man to his carriage, 
which had arrived, and a moment later he was 
seated in the carriage by his patient’s side. If the 
young gentleman would honor him his house was 


148 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


at his disposal until his wound healed, and, being 
himself a surgeon, perhaps his services could be of 
value to his guest, but in the mean time he would 
accompany the gentleman to the city and see him 
made comfortable ; thus spoke the military gentle- 
man, and his kindness was at once acknowledged 
and his offer accepted by the wounded man, and 
so the two carriages left the park, Ashleigh riding 
alone. 

But in the course of the drive homeward the 
manner of the military gentleman lost something 
of its formal politeness and became singularly 
tender and confidential, as he said, feelingly, — 

“It is an honorable thing to save a rival’s 
life; more honorable to love an enemy; but it is 
Christ-like to bestow one’s all upon another. And 
yet somehow I feel dissatisfied, and wish that there 
were something from the other side to balance the 
obligation. I think the other fellow should have 
carried the broken arm.” 


CHAPTER X. 


“ Comfort? comfort scorned of devils, this is a truth the 
poet sings, 

That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier 
things.” — Tennyson. 

“We meet again, where first we met 
In olden days when we were young ; 

When fairest flowers about us bloomed, 

And sweetest birds above us sung.” 

The long and dreary winter had passed away 
and spring had corne again. The ice and snow 
had disappeared from the shady, sheltered hill- 
sides. Everywhere in nature there awoke a fresher 
beauty and a newer life. The migratory biftls re- 
turned from the south, flying through the balmy 
air on glad wings as the trees began to leaf from 
the bud, the grass to peep out here and there over 
the fields and from the roadside, and the earlier 
flowers to lift their- happy faces to the sun in the 
gardens. 

On the hill-side sloping to the river’s edge, 
nestling amid the encircling mountains, lay the 
village of Slopingdale, crowned once more with 
the glory of a perfect day ; swiftly past its banks 

13 * 149 


150 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


rushed the swollen river, submerging the shore 
and crumbling the clay foundations of many a 
habitation as it bore on its broad, heaving bosom 
the myriad rafts of lumber, which by every spring 
freshet are carried down to the sea. Along the 
street following the bend of the river the mer- 
chants displayed their wares in attractive ways 
before their doors, while lads and lassies in pairs 
tripped over the uneven pavements and children 
laughed and romped on their way to school. 

On the main street, looking out upon the rush- 
ing river, a little two-story cottage stood, a garden 
and lawn around it, and a portico in front covered 
with vines and flowers ; and within, at the open 
window over the portico, a woman sat, alone and 
with folded hands, looking out upon the sunrise 
that crowned the mountain-tops and reddened the 
river like a sheet of flame. 

Would we recognize in that slender, pale-faced 
woman, with those sad eyes and thin hands, 
Jennie Carey, the village belle of six years ago? 

She was thinking, as she sat there in the glow 
of sunshine, what a beautiful world we live in, 
and how much there is all around us to make us 
happy if only we have the companionship of one 
we love. To live in solitude is not happiness, 
however fair the face of nature ; there must be 
one whom we love and trust to share life with us 
to make it desirable and worth the living ! She 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


151 


laid her arms on the window-sill, and, with her 
hands crossed on her bosom, indulged herself with 
sorrowful reflections. Again it was spring-time, 
and so the years one by one went by, coming with 
beautiful promises of hope and joy for all save 
her, and fulfilling those promises to all save her 
alone. And how much longer still to wait ? how 
many years yet to be patient ? how much more 
of the hope deferred that maketh the heart sick ? 
Why was her life so barren and wretched ? Others 
were happy, — so happy that hardly a care vexed 
the smooth current of their peaceful days. She 
looked upon them daily, their steps were buoyant, 
their eyes sparkled, and their laugh rung out mer- 
rily as they passed her on the street, greeting her 
with sweet smiles and brave words that showed 
the inward peace of mind of contented lives. 
They had the companionship of the loved ones ; 
they had heart and hope in their work and life. 
For her, however, the whole world was empty, 
and she were perhaps better dead. The idea of 
self-destruction possessed her once, and was over- 
come only by a strong struggle. Would there ever 
be an end to the long hunger of her heart crying 
out for love, — crying out and being denied from 
year to year? Her health had plainly suffered in 
the cruel discipline, her steps growing slower, her 
cheeks paler, and her eyes losing their old-time 
brilliancy. She had no heart in her work and life. 


152 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


She lifted her head, smoothed back her dishev- 
elled hair, and rose from her lowly seat at the 
window. She had no business to be sitting there 
dreaming. There was the room to sweep, the 
beds to make, the dishes to wash, the house to be 
set to rights, and the dinner to cook. Nor was she 
apparelled suitably for sentimental thoughts. Her 
dress was only a plain calico, somewhat soiled, 
without collar or cuffs, and lacking a few buttons 
in front. She had but to reach out her hand and 
there stood the waiting broom ready for duty. 
Altogether her present attitude of idleness was 
inexcusable. It was out of place. The time 
had come to quit dreaming and commence work- 
ing. And yet notwithstanding her palpable neg- 
lect of duty, the little woman continued to stand 
there, her hands folded before her and her gaze 
out upon the rushing river. 

That sunrise was just like the sunrise six years 
ago when he went away ; six years ago ! The 
grasp of his hand, the look from his eyes, the kiss 
when they parted on that bright morning could 
she ever forget? When, with a smile on his lips 
and a brave good-by, he turned to go, and she 
entered the house to hide her pain and tears, how 
her heart yearned to look upon him once again! 
and how the sunlight scorched her hot eyes as 
she threw open that window where she now stands 
and caught his last adieu, waving his handkerchief 

o y o 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


153 


to her from the boat on the river while the water 
dropped from the dipping oars like the sparkle 
of diamonds ! 

Did he still remember the time of their first 
meeting, that time so long ago before they loved ? 
Did he remember that summer night at camp- 
meeting, the tents in a circle under the tall trees, 
the rude benches for seats and pine platform for 
pulpit, the prayers and songs, and the torches 
blazing over the scene, and the stars looking down 
from an infinite distance through the tasselled 
boughs of- the old trees ? 

Had he forgotten the praise whispered to her 
that night in God’s temple, and how she hung 
upon his words like a bee on a flower, and drank 
the homage of his glances as his eyes looked into 
hers, even as the wanderer, overcome with weari- 
ness, stopping by the mountain rock, drinks a re- 
freshing draught from the crystal spring? Had 
he forgotten that she was dressed in white that 
night, and that he had called her an angel and 
wished the morning might never come, for fear 
that she would disappear with the paling stars ? 
Had he forgotten the happy period between that 
meeting and their parting, the period of blissful 
companionship merging gradually into the holiness 
of love? 

God help her if she has loved that man in vain ! 
She was his altogether, and could not love him 


154 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


less. He was the hope of her life. He had 
come into the girlhood of her life in its early 
morning, and hung over its day his own sunny 
manhood, — without him all was night! 

And now while she loves and waits, performing 
the dull duties of a weary existence without the 
warmth of hope, he, the loved one, is away in the 
great city, among its busy scenes and its great 
people, working for name and fame without a 
thought of one who would willingly die for him. 
He writes of his advancement and success, his 
work and triumphs ; of the pleasures Qf the city, 
of balls and parties, theatres and social entertain- 
ments; and his letters are shorter and fewer than in 
those other years. Doubtless among his friends are 
many fine ladies. They are cultured, intelligent, 
educated, beautiful, fascinating. He has grown 
away from the conditions and impediments of 
his youth, has lost the cruder feelings of an un- 
disciplined mind and heart, and has become a 
worldly man. His affections now go out to those 
about him whom he sees and admires, their bland- 
ishments allure and capture his love, and the plain 
face he knew in other days that had only the 
charm of love-lit eyes to make it beautiful is 
almost, it may be entirely, forgotten. 

Such, I am sorry to record, were the thoughts 
of that little, foolish woman standing near the 
window in a soiled dress that fair morning, neglect- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


155 


ing a needed breakfast to indulge a pet misery, 
after the manner of her sex from the days of 
Mother Eve. 

It was nearing evening when her day’s work 
was completed, and Jennie was tired, but one duty 
remained yet to be performed ; and she threw a 
light shawl about her shoulders, and, leaving the 
house, walked briskly, as she had done lately for 
many weeks every day, to the village post-office. 

“Any letter for me?'’ she asked, mechanically 
and without hope, for she had been disappointed 
so often of late that hope had given way to dis- 
couragement. 

“ Yes,” replied the clerk, pleasantly, as he 
handed her the long-looked-for missive, and 
stopped to mark the glow of pleasure that touched 
her cheek and the happy light that came into her 
eyes as she took it from his hand and hastily 
turned away. 

With the reflections of the clerk we have little 
concern. It was easy to infer from his manner 
that he loved the young lady and would have 
been willing to take the place of her absent lover, 
— indeed, to occupy any* place in her esteem if 
only permitted to love her and to tell his love. 
The appearance of the young lady in the post- 
office every day always shook him up so badly 
that, as he himself often observed, “ There’s a 
goneness sort o’ feelin’ comes over me ez ef I 


156 -4 PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 

lied n’t eat ennything for a week.” This evening 
another feeling possessed him. “ Thet Smith now 
is a mean whelp, er he wouldn’t neglect her ez 
he does, — writin’ her a letter once a month, an’ 
she writin’ to him twice a week reg’lar. D — n 
me, but she’s too good fur him!” communed the 
clerk to himself, feelingly, as his eyes admiringly 
followed her out. 

Jennie broke the seal and read the letter as she 
walked. Oh, the joy of the news it brought her! 
He was coming home at last. In a few days he 
would come and she would see him. And he calls 
her his own darling little woman, and promises 
that he will never leave her again, but that hence- 
forth their paths and lives and loves shall be one 
and inseparable. 

Swiftly she sped along the street and entered 
her home. With a full heart she ran to her room, 
and fell on her knees at her bedside and thanked 
God. The weight was lifted off her heart at last, 
and in the ending of all the weary days and 
weeks and months and years of waiting she saw 
the promise of a future, and knew that now she, 
too, would be happy, — ay, the happiest of the 
happy, for to be his wife was to be blessed above 
all women. 

That night, when walking up and down the 
garden, whose roses were planted by her own 
hand, she felt the wondrous comfort of religious 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


157 


trustand learned to know something of the strength, 
hope, and purity of never-ending, conscious life. 
The night was cold, and the dew fell upon her as 
she walked among the fragrant roses. But she 
felt warm, comfortable, happy, and thought, with 
a thrill, of “ the Lord God walking in the garden 
in the cool of the day.” 

All the succeeding days before his coming she 
felt herself a girl again, with a girl’s purity, trust, 
and hope. She came and went with a song on her 
lips as in the olden days when to love was a rev- 
elation. 

She told no one of his coming and yet it seemed 
as if the whole world knew of it. The sunshine 
said “He is coming,” the trees whispered “ He is 
coming,” the noisy river laughed “ Pie is coming,” 
and in the glance of every eye was held the tale 
“ He is coming.” 

And at the appointed time he came. She saw 
him sitting in the ferry-boat crossing the river, the 
oars dripping diamonds again in the sunlight as 
when he went away six years before. 

She had arranged the little parlor for his recep- 
tion ; it had been reburnished and decorated until 
it shone with cleanliness, and was now filled with 
heliotrope, geranium, and mignonette. 

Her dress was modest, for she knew that he 
best loved it so, being a plain brown cashmere, 
with linen collar and cuffs, and a tuberose at the 
14 


158 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


throat. Her mass of glossy black hair was smoothly 
brushed back from her pale forehead, glorified now 
by the light from those maidenly eyes. 

She was sitting in the little parlor with her 
burning cheeks in her hands and her soul in her 
bright eyes, when a step sounded on the pavement 
and stopped at the door. It was a ringing step. 
She knew the step, for long ago she had trained 
her timid feet to keep pace with it at his side. 

Then she sprang up and met him at the door. 
The door opened, and closed upon them locked in 
each other’s ‘arms. There was a wondrous look in 
her eager face which she turned upon him, illumi- 
nated by those great pleading eyes, — a look such 
as only a woman knows and which no man fully 
understands. It was a very quiet meeting, and 
she said nothing, — said nothing at all, only bowed 
her head on his shoulder, put her hand up to his 
bearded face, and crept into his arms like a tired 
child. 

“ Why, Jennie darling, you are crying !” 

It was quite true ; and when he tenderly lifted 
her face full to his own, her hot tears dropped on 
his hand. 


CHAPTER XI. 

u This tale will not be told in vain if it shall be found 
to illustrate the great truth, that guilt, though it may 
attain temporal splendor, can never conquer real happi- 
ness ; that the evil consequences of our crimes long survive 
their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, 
forever haunt the steps of the malefactor ; and that the 
paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, 
are always those of pleasantness and peace. ” — Scott. 

The change of scene, the relaxation of over- 
strained nerves, and the peace and quiet of the 
surroundings produced their effect upon an organ- 
ization nervously sensitive by nature, and which 
had undergone lately the strain of both physical 
and mental anguish. It was pleasant to be in the 
country again. It was pleasant to see the old 
familiar faces, to hear the old familiar voices, to 
watch the rushing river and the flying birds, and 
to visit the well-remembered scenes of boyhood 
and school-boy days. 

It was on a sunny day in May that William, 
sitting with Jennie in the grove of pine, back of 
the village, after a walk together through the 
country, said, earnestly, as though resuming the 
conversation of six years ago, — 

“ Jennie, when shall we be married ?” 

159 


160 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


For many years afterwards he remembered how 
she dropped her lashes, blushed a rosy red, and 
crept close to his side, then suddenly looked up 
into his eyes with a solemn gaze, and said, — 

“ I am ready any day to be your wife.” 1 
For many years he remembered her reply, and 
how the day closed, and the west glowed with 
purple and gold flecked with silver clouds, as on 
that other day back of the years when they parted 
in the woods. For many years he remembered 
how the evening came on as they sat there look- 
ing over the landscape occupied with strange re- 
flections; came on in the glory of a tropical sunset, 
big pillows of gorgeously-colored clouds piled 
high on the edge of the world and the god of day 
reclining on them, “ burning the threshold of the 
night.” 

A week later they were married. 

It was the plainest of weddings. There was no 
display or fuss. Everybody was invited, but only 
a few attended the ceremony. The parents of 
Jennie were there of course, and William’s mother, 
and the old school-teacher. Maine Bartlett was 
bridesmaid, and Sally Chichester and Lucy Brown 
u assisted.” These three remembered the climb- 
ing of the old oak and blushed. Jennie remem- 
bered it too, and looked happy. Jack Potter, an 
old friend of William’s from the days of his in- 
fancy, acted as groomsman ; and the Methodist 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


161 


preacher married them. Gorham & Son did not 
attend in person, but they were represented by 
their gift to the married pair, a pretty little set of 
tea things in fine china, at once a useful present 
and a graceful token of a wish to blot out and 
forgive the wrongs of the past. 

The post-office clerk, Mr. Hezekiah McStrad- 
dletree, was present, but, owing to wounded feel- 
ings which he strove in vain to conceal and which 
at length overcame him, he soon sadly withdrew. 
The scene reminded him of “ Pilgrim’s Progress.” 
“ It are like Wanity Fair,” he said, “ Wanity and 
wanity and wexation of spirit.” 

When all the guests had gone and they were left 
alone, they sat in the little parlor close together 
very happy. It did not seem as if they were 
married man and wife, but rather as though they 
were children again met after a long separation 
and renewing old remembrance of childhood’s 
scenes and pleasures. 

To her the tall bearded man at her side with 
the easy composure of a man of the world seemed 
to be very far removed from the awkward, slender 
boy of other days, and perhaps this difference 
caused her to love him with a deeper awe than 
before, but the toss of the head, the tone of voice, 
the ways and the smile of the man were the same 
as of old and brought back the old-time familiar- 
ity and love. 

I 


14 * 


162 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


To him Jennie appeared to have changed but 
little, except to have become thinner, sadder, and 
more womanly. She was the same true-hearted, 
natural, loving child, innocent alike of culture and 
of wrong that had charmed his restless life when a 
boy ; and looking at her now and remembering 
the past, he could truly say, for all her faithfulness 
and constancy, for all her truth and trust, for ail 
her deep and boundless love for him, he loved her ! 

As the spring advanced they often drove out 
together in the warm weather for many miles up 
and down the smooth road skirting the river-shore. 
One day they changed their drive and explored a 
sandy little driveway that branched off from the 
highway and led through a stretch of shady woods 
in the back country. The tangled growth of brier, 
tree, and bush extended on either hand far away 
into the cool, dark wilderness. They drove slowly 
through the narrow road far into the valley of 
shade. About them the great trees grew closer 
to the road, and the shadows deepened and the 
squirrels dropped nuts rattling down through the 
leaves. Before them a rabbit emerged from the 
bushes and bounded straight down the road. 

Jennie, sitting close to her husband, her hat 
removed, and her fingers playing with its ribbons, 
turned suddenly, with an impulsive gesture, to- 
wards him, and, lifting her great black eyes to his 
face, said, — 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


163 

“ We will always be happy, I love you so !” 

Instantly she was gathered to his heart, and 
held there in a close embrace, as if something had 
threatened to take her from him, or as if he meant 
to treasure her and make her his lifetime comfort 
and joy. . 

The tree-tops stirred, touched by a passing 
breeze, and the squirrels leaped from tree to tree, 
as she looked into his eyes and saw the look of 
determination there. The resolute look changed 
to tenderness under her glance, and he said, — 

“ Jennie, we will be happy ! All our life shall 
be passed in trying to make each other happy, 
and, living thus, God will send us happiness !” 

How the end of the sylvan road was reached, 
how the horse turned into the highway leading 
to the village, William did not know. He only 
knew that he took his girlish bride in his em- 
brace, knew that her soft cheek rested against 
his face in utter confidence, knew that he kissed 
her willing lips again and again, knew that his 
little wife in murmured words, with burning face 
and tender caresses, received his love, and that 
she returned it, saying how dear he was to her, 
and how she loved and loved, and how she loved 
him. 

And so, clasped in each other’s arms, they con- 
tinued their homeward drive across the rolling 
hills and through the fragrant woods. 


164 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


William greatly enjoyed the peaceful life that 
greeted him each day. It was like a new, an un- 
known joy, or — a blessing. It was so different 
from the stirring scenes and mad conflict of the 
city, where the battle of life, the strivings for suc- 
cess, the intense activity of mind and heart and 
soul are found. There were recollections of the 
past, of the time when the very peacefulness of 
the village was an offence, and he longed for tur- 
moil and excitement even as he now longed for 
rest. Those boyish days he could never forget. 
But much of the ambitious irritability of youth 
had been outgrown during his six years of life and 
labor in the city, and now, calmer, more self-com- 
posed, and a man among men, he cared less for ex- 
citing scenes, and could abandon himself more 
graciously than heretofore to the delights of the 
country. The companionship of his wife made 
the days very sweet. He felt that now he com- 
manded the best conditions of success. lie be- 
lieved that with a wife’s help and encouragement 
a man can do worthy deeds in the world. He 
knew his wife believed in him, and in her so- 
ciety he almost forgot that he had ever toiled 
or needed still to toil, and as the happy hours fled 
he became almost as lazy as the villagers them- 
selves. 

One indolent afternoon he was awakened from 
a day-dream, into which he would still relapse at 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


165 


times as when a boy, by his wife coming to his side 
in the little parlor where he lay outstretched on 
the lounge and holding up before him something 
which he at first supposed to be a circus-poster, 
but which, on a closer view, resolved itself into 
a patch bed-quilt. It was a marvel of colors and 
little pieces joined together into one harmonious 
whole by infinite skill, patience, and labor, — one 
of those chef eT oeuvres of a past age in which our 
good grandparents used to delight. She held it 
outspread before him, her timid eyes and flushed 
face just visible above its edge. 

“ I made it,” she murmured. “ It’s for our bed 
when we go to housekeeping.” 

She watched his face as she spoke, trying to 
see if it pleased him. But if she had ever had 
any fear of his want of appreciation it was quickly 
dispelled. 

With a swift movement he arose and gathered 
her, with the quilt wrapt around her, in his arms, 
and sank into a chair, holding her on his lap and 
caressing her like a child. 

u God bless you for a loving little woman !” he 
exclaimed, impetuously. “ And you sewed this 
all yourself, I suppose ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ With your needle, stitch by stitch?” 

“ Yes.” 

He wrapped her tighter in the flowery patch- 


1 66 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


work, and held her close to him, then he smiled : 
u And how long did it take you to finish it?” 

Without suspicion she replied, “ About six 
months !” 

Perhaps under other circumstances her reply 
would have caused him to laugh, for certainly it 
was a mere waste of time and labor to spend six 
months over a thing which could be bought for 
two dollars in the stores; but it so happened that 
just then he did not see the laughable. He saw 
only the untiring labor of his best friend, the de- 
voted love of his true wife in that crude though 
treasured patch-work, — crude in design and exe- 
cution, — treasured, because in every stitch of it 
and through every hour of the many weary days 
in which that little loving hand had labored on it 
there was love and love and love for him. 

How the slightest things, the commonest deeds, 
when inspired by love, ennoble life ! There was 
more in the painstaking, patient toil by which 
that simple flowered quilt was made to touch her 
husband’s heart that day than in all the warm 
caresses which in the happy hour that followed 
she showered so lavishly upon him ! 

And still on other days she showed him other 
treasures prudently prepared and laid up by her 
against the day of housekeeping, — including, 
among other things, a varied store of table-linen, 
bed-linen, tidies, curtains, and rugs. She produced 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


167 


these things one by one, at different times, with 
a grave delight which showed to her patient 
listener how her energy of love had entered into 
them and how dear they were to her. To Wil- 
liam it seemed astonishing that he should come 
to have so deep an interest in each one of these 
various articles as they w T ere successively presented 
before him. He had never spent a thought upon 
them heretofore. His knowledge of them was 
exceedingly limited. He could not have told the 
difference between a table-cover and a bed-sheet 
if left to his own unaided judgment, or dis- 
tinguished that formless garment, a woman’s 
night-dress, from a ruffled pillow-slip. To have 
been required to define the distinction between 
real lace and mosquito-netting would have puz- 
zled him sorely. Yet the more he looked and 
listened the stronger grew his interest, until at 
length it would have been difficult to say whether 
his wife or himself w~as most pleased with the 
paraphernalia she laid out and exhibited. A 
month before and he would have cared nothing 
for such things, would have despised them ; now 
he was pleased with the possession of a zebra 
bed-quilt, and in ecstasies over a woman’s slipper. 
Such is man ! 

But the effect upon him was not unlike that of 
awaking from a dream. He felt that he had 
rested now a long while, and rested very pleas- 


168 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


antly, but that it was time to be up and doing. 
His little wife had done her part towards prepar- 
ing for a home, and now it became his duty to 
supply that home. Hitherto he had dwelt only 
upon their union and happiness, and now that all 
that he had thought and wished was truly his, it 
remained only to provide a home wherein their 
happiness might be long enjoyed. He resolved 
to secure a home and hedge it round with love 
and establish it firmly in a prosperous business, 
without which no home is truly happy. 

It was finally determined, after many counsels 
held and arguments heard pro and con, to locate in 
the West. With the courage of youth they hoped 
to so live and labor that, through mutual help 
and constancy, a way would open to comfort and 
independence. William no more doubted achiev- 
ing success than he doubted his own existence. 
It was still as easy as the drawing of the breath. 
Under the spur of his grand ambition it was easy 
for him to believe in himself, easy to believe it as 
simple a thing to rise to distinction in the world 
as to plead a cause or smoke a cigar. 

While the busy preparations went on in the 
house to properly outfit these young emigrants, 
William carelessly sauntered about the town, 
mingling freely with the people, conversing with 
friends and discussing school-boy frolics with those 
who had once been his schoolmates. Perhaps his 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


169 


unassuming manner and friendly hearty greeting 
of those whom he knew made him seem less ob- 
jectionable to the people than when a boy. Still 
it was quite clear from remarks made and glances 
cast as he passed that an old grudge subsisted 
which nothing that he could do would ever en- 
tirely uproot or remove. It was felt that he 
had always respected himself, and somehow or 
other that fact was treasured up against him ; 
and while it might be fairly conceded that no 
one disputed his worth, or denied that he was 
worthy of all respect, yet it was generally con- 
ceived improper for a man to respect himself, 
and proper that he should be made to feel what 
men who had no respect for themselves thought of 
a fellow of that kind. He was made to feel their 
displeasure accordingly. 

Not that he received this treatment from all the 
people ; it would be a slander to so allege. There 
were many kind souls in Slopingdale who loved 
and honored him. There were many who esteemed 
and respected him. All such are expressly ex- 
cepted out of the foregoing general remark. And 
perhaps, too, he noticed the ill treatment too sen- 
sibly, perhaps often magnified it. It was possible 
to do this, because the keenest pain it brought him 
came from the reflection that it was ungenerous 
and undeserved. 

His indifferent reception, however, did not long 
h 15 


170 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


occupy his thought, for there soon occurred an 
event which, from its startling nature, drove this, 
as well as other thoughts, for the time being, out 
of mind. 

It was on a day in June, during one of these 
jaunts about town, that William found himself 
the central figure of a group of men and boys 
gathered before the bar-room door of the “ Gentle 
Influence, ; ” a hotel of long standing in the village, 
and, perhaps by reason of its seductive name, of 
great popularity. The crowd, it must be con- 
fessed, was mixed. It was also peculiar. There 
was the usual swaggering air of inferior superior- 
ity, and indifference to bare feet and torn breeches. 
There was the customary picturesque apparel, and 
want of apparel, common to those who cared little 
for what they wore and less for what they did or 
said. At the time of which I write the gift of 
loud speech was abundant in every small com- 
munity. One could get plain, embroidered, and 
decorated specimens on every street corner. And 
for glittering streaks of unique diction a choice 
assortment was kept in every bar-room. There 
was therefore a generous supply of vigorous 
speech ; and invective and tobacco-spit flowed 
freely. There was, furthermore, an originality in 
the conversation, albeit loud and profusely copi- 
ous, not often found in polite society, and the ex- 
pletives with which it was fringed, embellished, 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 171 

and ornamented gave to the otherwise plain talk 
a wonderful force and charm. 

William stood in the midst of the crowd ap- 
parently unconscious of the din about him as lie 
watched the face of our old friend, Colonel Erastus 
S. S wampus, who was deeply interested in a news- 
paper. The colonel suddenly broke forth with an 
execration, which silenced even the crowd that stood 
there. He at once began a harangue, inimitable 
in its way, upon the prevalence of crime, the bur- 
den of which was the present deplorable scarcity 
of hangings. He held the newspaper in his hand 
and brandished it wildly by way of emphasis of 
his views. His attitude promised a speech, and a 
circle soon formed about him to enjoy the fun, 
for whether the colonel w^as sober and indignant or 
drunk and excited did not clearly appear, and re- 
quired always a nice and penetrating judgment to 
determine. 

“ Now here is a case,” pursued the colonel, con- 
tinuing his remarks and striking the newspaper 
impressively with his hand, “ thet illustrates er — 
my position squarely, and proves — er — in — er 
— conclusive manner that mankind is bad, and 
womankind — er — demme — worse. Not thet I 
think it necessary to deplore the condition of 
women,” deprecatingly observed the colonel, with 
a frightful smile, “for the devil will get ’em any- 
how. But T — er — confess to considerable interest 


172 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


in the— er — fate of man. I would like to see, say 
one-quarter of the population hanged for the good 
of the three-quarters left. Gentlemen, I tell you 
the only way to make this world good is to hang 
the wicked. So long as they live they will breed 
others like ’em, and not all the preachers on earth, 
though each one of ’em should be filled full of 
chicken up to the neck every day of his life as 
long as he lives, will ever be able to prevent the 
— er — demoralization of society, — now you hear 
me ! This We case,” continued the colonel, pa- 
ternally, “ shows thet I am right. Now We was 
a young man courtin* a female woman, a maiden 
of his species ; he ruins the gal and — er — runs 
away. Then when — er— his whereabouts is dis- 
covered and she writes to him, wot does he do ? 
Does he act fair by the woman as has trusted him ? 
Does he stand by and protect her as has loved him ? 
No ! He does not. On the contrary — now wot 
do you s’pose, on the contrary, he does, eh ?” 

The colonel turned sharply around and looked 
upon his auditory, as he asked the question, and 
stopped, but his sweeping glance saw only open- 
mouthed wonder and suspense on the faces about 
him. Proud of a talent which met such uncon- 
scious and sincere recognition, he smiled a frightful 
smile, j and continued, — 

“ Wot does he do? Why, he hires a fellow to 
do away with the girl. He sends the fellow fifty 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


173 


dollars, and promises him another fifty when the job 
is done. And the fellow is a worthy tool of his 
employer and sets about to do his work. The 
fellow goes to the girl and tells her thet he is a 
messenger from her lover, and thet he is to take 
her to see him in secret, — to take her all alone in 
a little boat out on the sea at night to meet him 
on a big ship thet he says will be there at the 
risin’ of the moon. The girl is glad, fur she be- 
lieves the story and thinks she will soon see the 
man she loves. So the fellow takes her in the 
little boat and rows out through the breakers in 
the darkness of the night, far away from the 
shore and out of hearin’ ; but no light is seen and 
no ship comes, and the girl gets afraid and sus- 
pects foul treatment and begs to return home, 
when the fellow crouches down in the boat and 
creeps and crawls along, quiet- like, till he reaches 
her, and then he grabs her and holds her mouth 
shut, and forces her head into the gurglin’ water 
and holds her there, her body in the boat and her 
head in the sea, till her struggles cease and life is 
stilled, then drops the limp body, fastened to a 
bar of iron, into the dark deep and rows back to 
the shore.” 

As the colonel paused a shudder passed through 
the crowd and no one spoke. It seemed as if 
each one saw the murdered girl as she hung over 
the edge of the little boat and sank in the cruel 

15 * 


174 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


sea. The colonel glanced at his newspaper a 
moment, and then went on, — 

“ The job lied been so well done that no one 
suspected that the girl was — er — drownded and 
murdered; it was thought she hed gone to seek 
her lover or to visit friends in another town. The 
fellow was not suspected, and he went about his 
usual business secure and safe. But somehow his 
— er — conscience troubled him, — although he got 
the extra fifty dollars, which ought have eased a 
conscience such as he possessed, — and he couldn’t 
sleep, and he became afraid of the sea, and turned 
colors when people looked at him, and started 
when they talked to him and looked behind him 
as if some one was followin’ him, until one night 
he — er — disappeared from the settlement.” 

The colonel paused to take a fresh chew of to- 
bacco, and, with teeth closely pressed upon the 
quid, continued, — 

“ It might hev bin a month or so afterwards, 
thet a lot of sailors were splashin’ round in a 
ship’s yawl off the coast a-fishin’ fur sharks, when 
one of ’em spied somethin’ afloat, — somethin’ sort 
o’ water-logged, part out of and part under water, 
on the waves. Cornin’ closer they saw it was a 
human body, a drowncM woman, and they hauled 
it aboard. The clothes was still a-clingin’ to the 
slight and willowy figure, and a rope was tied 
about her waist, and was sort of gnawed-off like 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


175 


at the end, as if it had bin broken from an iron bar ; 
and there was a letter in her pocket and a ring on 
her finger and a handkerchief in her belt with her 
name on it, ‘Julia.’ When the sailors got to shore, 
her parents came down to the beach among the 
crowd and recognized their dead child and wept 
and took her home sorrowing. But even then no 
one knew thet she had bin murdered. The letter 
in her pocket was from him. The letter promised 
her fair, and offered her money to support her 
child, and spoke of old times and love and sich- 
like d — d nonsense, and it was believed thet out 
of disappointment and remorse she hed gone and 
drowneM herself. The loss of a little skiff some 
time before gave some probability to this — er — 
natural conjecture. She hed a grand funeral, fur 
she hed always bin a good girl, and the people 
loved her, wherefore this ’ere newspaper says thet 
there in her beautiful Southern home, close to the 
soundin’ sea, they made her grave and laid her in 
it, herself the fairest flower of all thet flowery 
land, and all the people wept fur the poor dead 
mother bearin’ her unborn babe.” 

And the colonel paused again, this time to wipe 
a tear from the end of his nose. He scratched 
his beard reflectively and changed his quid to the 
other cheek before he proceeded. 

“ Lemme think, — it was shortly after the find- 
in’ of the corpse thet the lover and the fellow wot 


176 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


bed drowncM the girl met in New York. It was 
a stormy meeting and roused bad blood in both of 
’em. ( God d — n you and your money !’ said the 
fellow, when the lover offered to pay him for his 
silence. ‘ Nothin’ can keep me silent. The whole 
world shall know of it. What do I care for pun- 
ishment? No sufferin’ can be greater than I now 
feel, no punishment severer than I now bear, — 
even hangin’ I believe would be a relief to me,’ — 
in which opinion I cordially agree with the fel- 
low. No, sir,” parenthetically mused the colonel, 
“ it couldn't hev bin worse. The fellow wouldn’t 
hev suffered more in bein’ hanged, and it would 
hev bin a condemned sight better fur the world at 
large.” And the colonel smiled widely. “ Well, 
as I was a-sayin’, they hed a meetin’. It was in 
the private rooms of the lover, who hed a sort of 
position in a bank in New York, and was a-livin’ 
in good style, and sported round like a handsome 
young fellow as he was ” 

William started. “'What was his name?” he 
asked, without attempting to conceal his deep 
interest. 

Everybody turned at once to look at the man 
who dared to interrupt the speaker; but the colonel, 
for once, affected not to hear the interruption, and 
coolly went on with his tale. 

u I was about to say, gentlemen, thet they hed 
a meetin’ and quarrelled, and the lover pulled a 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


177 


pistol on the fellow, but afore he could discharge 
it the fellow — er — knocked him flat with a slung- 
shot and immediately left. The lover was badly 
hurt, and it was a miracle he didn’t die, fur he 
lied a dreadful cut in the skull, — a three-cornered 
cut near the left temple, Avhich ought hev killed 
him. But wot does he do ?” 

William again started and trembled. 

“ Why, he leaves his lodgin’s the same night 
and disappears. And when the officers came fur 
him next day he was nowhere to be found. Fur, 
you see, the fellow lied tried to give him into cus- 
tody, and lied made oath that he was ‘ accessory 
before the fact’ to murder, and meant to hev him 
hang, even if he lied to hang ’longside of him, or 
on the same gibbet. P’r’aps it was as well thet 
he didn’t implicate himself jist then, or he might 
hev hanged himself, and the lover would never 
hev bin found and hanged, — which would hev 
bin a condemned insufferable pity. Well, the 
lover escaped, and must hev changed his name- 
and appearance, fur he has never bin found, and 
it’s thought he has gone to furrin parts. But this 
’ere newspaper goes on to say, — all this wot I’m 
tellin’ you happened four years ago, — to say thet 
a month ago jist, the fellow wot drowncM the 
girl dies, and before he dies he makes a confession, 
in which he tells the whole story of the crime, — 
tells how he was induced to do the job, and how 


m 


178 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


the poor girl pled and struggled fur life, and 
how every night of his life since thet day he 
dreamt of going through the horrid business of 
drowncfoViy that girl, and ” 

A wild peal of laughter came from the bar- 
room, followed by a striking set of profane re- 
marks, which were suddenly chopped off by a 
closing door. The crowd soon investigated the 
cause of the disturbance, while the colonel tem- 
porarily suspended his remarks. It was not diffi- 
cult to discover. Some wag had secretly put a 
drop of croton oil in the barkeeper’s grog, and 
that worthy young gentleman’s nimble and expe- 
ditious movements as he departed produced a scene 
which was extremely enlivening, and which even 
the name of the hotel, mild though it was, tended 
rather to intensify than calm. 

“ Now, that’s a c gentle influence,’ aren’t it?” 
sarcastically observed a citizen, with irony on his 
lips and a red patch on his trousers. 

But William knew nothing of what had hap- 
pened. He stood there rooted to the spot, unable 
to stir. He heard nothing save confused sounds, 
saw nothing but the red-bearded face of the colonel, 
on whom his eyes were bent as if fascinated. When 
the colonel again took up the thread of his narra- 
tive, it seemed to him as though an inexorable 
fate was weaving a sure web in which to entangle 
his old friend and forging a thunderbolt to strike 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


179 


him dead. The question, Can it be Ashleigh? 
wearily dinned in his brain, and the answer came, 
fiendlike, into his ears, Yes, it is Ashleigh ! The 
words of the colonel mingled confusedly with the 
sounds in the street, and seemed to come from afar 
as he spoke. 

“ In thet confession as I was tellin’ about,” 
blandly pursued the colonel, “ the fellow describes 
this ’ere lover. He says thet Edwin Parker was 
a handsome ” 

“ Parker?” 

“A handsome man of heavy build and fine 
figure ; a young man of pVaps twenty-five, pale- 
faced, noble bearin’, and brown, curly-haired ” 

“ Brown ? You mean black ?” 

“ Brown, curly-haired, smooth-faced, and havin’ 
fine black eyes, which sparkled in excitement like 
a Turk’s.” 

Perhaps by reason of his interruption the colonel 
paused here, with his keen eye bent upon William. 
He went on, addressing his words to him and 
looking him straight in the eye. 

“ The sing’larist thing is thet the fellow remem- 
bers jist where he hit Parker with thet three- 
cornered slung-shot. He describes the spot ex- 
actly. It is on the left temple, jist back two 
inches from the frontal bone of the forehead, and 
an inch and a half above and forward of the ear. 
The wound made was three-cornered, and measures 


180 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


a half-inch along each side of the cut. It is like 
so.” And the colonel illustrated it by a diagram 
on the corner of the paper, rapidly drawn with a 
lead-pencil, thus : A* “ And thet wound ought 
to be found now, jist about right here” (walking 
swiftly up to William, striking off his hat and 
placing his long, bony forefinger on the supposed 
spot on his head). “ As I live I almost expected to 
find thet mark on your head, young man, you looked 
so scared. You’ve bin away a good while and 
might hev been the man. Mebbe you know the 
man ? I ain’t frightened you, hev I, eh ? Why, 
thet mark ’ll find thet man wherever he may hide 
in the world, and I shall see him hanged yet, 
demme if I sha’n’t ! What ? Get some water, 
quick !” 

William had fainted and fallen to the earth. 

In the momentary excitement which followed 
the bar-room was deserted, and the street echoed 
under the footsteps of running men hurrying to 
swell the crowd that stood about the bar-room 
door. The colonel needed no assistance to revive 
the sick man. A liberal application of water was 
sufficient. In a minute he opened his eyes, arose, 
and staggered to a seat. 

“ The sun’s too hot fur the city chap ; better 
get a bandbox fur him !” suggested the citizen with 
a red patch on his trousers. The crowd laughed 
at the joke. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


181 


The colonel dropped the water-pitcher and pulled 
off his coat. “ Any remarks against him ,” he ob- 
served, significantly, “you will jist consider as made 
against me, — er — against me , d’ye understand ?” 

It is to be inferred that the colonel’s meaning 
was understood, for there was nothing further 
said, and the sick man soon arose, and, under the 
colonel’s guidance and support, walked down the 
street. When they parted at the door, the colonel, 
at his request, handed him the newspaper. 

That night when all was still through the house, 
William drew his chair to the table and unfolded 
the newspaper to the light. It was a copy of the 
New York Tribune , three days old, and contained 
the full details of the dreadful story which the 
colonel had told. It was written in graphic style, 
with startling head-lines, and illustrated with cuts 
of the murderer and his victim, and the lover and 
the slung-shot, and the wound on the left temple. 
It also contained the confession of Jackson Sparr, 
the murderer, and the history of Julia Fenwick, 
the murdered girl. The details were minute and 
circumstantial, even the certificate of the notary 
who took the confession, that it was made “ after 
being first informed that he must unavoidably die 
and in the full belief of speedy death,” being faith- 
fully preserved and reproduced. 

After reading the sickening tale, William folded 
the paper, placed it in his pocket, pushed the lamp 
16 


182 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


from him, and leaned hack in his chair overcome 
with horror. How many things now came to 
mind to prove that Ashleigh was this man Parker, 
the murderer! There had always been something 
about the man mysterious, something that told of 
a secret history concealed from sight. He had 
never told the friend of his heart of his native 
place, but had ever striven to conceal it. Was not 
their speedy friendship a plot of his to throw off 
suspicion in case of arrest by enlisting friends in 
his behalf under a new name ? Their acquaint- 
ance began somewhere near the time of his quar- 
rel with Sparr, when he received that blow on 
the temple. And that scar? Did not that fix his 
identity ? Did it not, as the colonel said, “ find 
him out wherever he may hide in the world”? 
How he had tried to conceal that mark ! How 
he had trained his curls to cover it! and how 
startled he was that day on which his fever broke 
when he knew that it had been seen ! And all 
without avail ! He was henceforth a marked man, 
— a Cain, with every man’s hand raised against 
him to slay him. His wife even would learn to 
know that she was married to a murderer. Poor 
Lilian ! And were they married ? Could Parker 
carry through to the end the bold game he was 
playing ? It was successful so far, but would he 
accomplish his dream of wealth and power and 
escape justice to be happy despite his crime? Or 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


183 


would the day of reckoning come, that dread 
avenger of the wronged, when all the infamy of 
the past will be laid bare and punished, and he, 
poor fool, be made to feel the lash of long-delayed 
retributive justice? 

The clock struck eleven, and William broke off 
his reflections and prepared to retire. There was 
a sense of security throughout all the house, and 
as he entered the room where his wife lay sleeping 
her gentle breathings fell like balm upon his per- 
turbed spirit, and when he laid his head upon the 
pillow beside her a sense of innocence and purity 
swept over his soul, and he felt that no degree of 
rank however grand, if secured by crime, could 
ever give that blessed peace that comes through 
the possession of a clear and quiet conscience. 

But he slept not for a long time. There was 
that in the hour and all surroundings which 
strangely softened his heart towards the man who 
had been his friend. At first he had felt a horror 
of the man who could do so damning a deed of 
crime. But knowing that that man was none 
other than Harry Ashleigh, his old friend, he 
shrank from condemning him. The deepest im- 
pression now left on his mind from this horrible 
.disclosure seemed to be a sorrowing pity for his 
friend. He could not think him altogether bad, 
he could not hate him, he could not deliver him 
up to justice. Shocked, indeed, by the terrible 


184 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


tale, feeling the utmost revulsion against the atro- 
cious deed, his mind still sought to separate the 
crime from the criminal, condemning one, pitying 
the other, and his heart still held fast, undimmed 
by the past or present, the dear memories of their 
old friendship. It may be possible that the In- 
finite Intelligence heard the prayer that linked 
the name of Ashleigh with the pure and good 
that night, and smiled approval upon him who, 
having uttered it, sweetly slept ! 

Once more summer reigned at Slopingdale. 
Once more July was here with its oppressive heat. 
Once more from the verdure-clad hills behind the 
town, which promised a plentiful harvest, to the 
hovering trains on the horizon, which seemed to 
be waiting to carry that harvest to market, there 
was a general summer glow. Once more a slight 
breeze, stirring aimlessly among the branches of the 
water-willows, rippled the surface of the river 
into an aqueous goose-flesh under the fervent heat 
of the blazing sun. 

The time had come at last to leave for the West. 
They were to start the next morning. William 
was at the river-shore arranging nets for a last 
night’s fishing. Jennie, in the midst of packed 
household goods, restlessly wandered through the 
rooms. She was thinking of old times and of the 
fateful future in the wide West, when the door- 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


185 


bell rang and a strange lady appeared before her 
at the door, and was ushered into the little parlor. 
A single glance showed her to be a singularly 
beautiful young woman. She was richly, but 
plainly, dressed in one shade of softest brown 
from bonnet to boots. She had an air of refine- 
ment and composure belonging only to those of 
rank, and wonderfully expressive dark blue eyes. 
She spoke fluently, with a smile, as she introduced 
herself and passed the civilities of the day, while 
her great blue eyes took in and retained every 
detail of the face and figure before her. 

The sun stole into the room through the latticed 
shutters and fell upon the faces of the women as 
they sat there, lighting up those features that shone 
in marked contrast to each other, — the one fair- 
skinned, brown-haired, blue-eyed, and with Gre- 
cian cast and self-possession, the other pale, black- 
haired, black-eyed, shy, but spirited, and without 
tact or composure. Two women could hardly be 
more unlike. 

Their interview was of little importance. In 
quite a casual way the stranger learned that the 
lady before her was Mrs. William Smith, that 
she had been married lately, that her husband 
had lived in New York, that he was a lawyer, and 
they were going West in the morning. The stranger 
would not wait to- see her husband, — it was not 
necessary ; she could consult him by letter, and — 


186 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


the stranger left. The two women stood up and 
walked to the door together, thus still more fully 
emphasizing the difference between them. They 
never forgot each other. 

“ Only a pretty country girl !” thought the 
lady, as she swept from the house and walked 
down the street. 

But when, a half-hour later, she took her way 
to the ferry and passed a group of men standing 
about their fishing-nets, one of the men started 
from the crowd and ran towards her, and, all wet 
and mud, stood at her side trembling as he looked 
down into her upturned face lighted with a sad 
smile. 

“ Lilian ! you here !” 

“ Walk with me to the boat, please,” she said, 
giving him her hand with the grace of old days. 
“ Never mind the mud and wet, — we need not 
mind, and must not excite remark. William,” 
she continued, looking into his eyes earnestly as 
they walked, “ I did not come here to disturb, to 
undo anything. Nobody knows me. I came 
only to see her , your wife, — I could not live with- 
out seeing her. I have seen her, — she is a good 
little girl, I suppose, and I hope you are — con- 
tent?” 

He bowed his head. u And you ?” he asked. 

“ I am married to Ashleigh.” 

“And he is kind to you?” 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


187 


“Yes.” 

“ Is he — is he now in the city ?” 

“ Yes ; and doing well. He bought an interest 
in the bank, and is a partner. We shall pass the 
summer in the White Mountains. William, if — 
I can — if we can do anything for you, — perhaps 
you will permit me to supply your library?” 

“Lilian, say no more of that; I shall work as 
before, and earn my bread by the sweat of my 
face. I think I prefer it so. If ever I succeed 
it will be, in the future as in the past, by my 
own unaided labor and toil. But there is nothing, 
nothing troubling Ashleigh, is there?” 

“ Nothing that I know. Why ?” 

“I thought perhaps — a fever, — he had one 
once.” 

“ No ; he is quite well.” 

“And in good spirits?” 

“Can you ask ? Yes.” 

She did not know. He bore it bravely through. 
God help them that the bolt might not fall ! God 
forgive him when he comes to die ! 

“ Lilian, I am glad to see you again. I shall 
likely never see you again. You have not changed 
much. You never can change — to me.” 

“ Nor you to me ; never !” 

They had reached the boat, and the ferryman 
was waiting. Once again their eyes met. They 
looked steadily at each other and thought of part- 


188 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


ing and of what might have been. They looked 
at each other for the last time. Then they sepa- 
rated, with a hand-clasp that thrilled the heart 
and a whispered blessing on their lips, and she 
stepped into the boat and was gone — forever ! 

Yet the morning found him calm and hopeful. 
It found him shaking hands with friends and 
taking leave of Slopingdale. And the sunrise 
that struck the rippling river like a sheet of flame 
covered him and Jennie, and all the world, with 
effulgent glory down by the river-shore. 





CHAPTER XII. 


“ And now there is but one of all my blood 
Who will embrace me in the world to be, 

This hair is his.”— Tennyson. 

11 In the night of death hope sees a star, 

And listening love can hear the rustling of a wing.” 

Ingersoll. 

11 My eyes are dim with childish tears, 

My heart is idly stirred ; 

For the same sound is in my ears 

Which in those days I heard.” — Wordsworth. 

u God forgive me, but I’ve often thought 
Had I God’s power or He my love, 

We’d have a different world 
From this we live in.” — Holland. 

Kature renews her works. Her wooded tem- 
ples are rebuilt and her ravaged fields repaired. 
The woodman’s axe may fell the trees, but the 
forest grows again. The valleys ploughed by shot 
and torn by shell yield their harvests another year. 
The dying leaves on every tree are a prophecy that 
spring will come again. The winds of winter, the 
cold, tiie ice, and snow are only for a day that soon 
is gone. Summer still returns with warmth and 
song and bloom. 

It is the same with man. Although sorrow 

189 


190 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


may enter a human life, cankering the heart and 
weighing down the weary spirit till life itself 
becomes a burden too grievous to be borne, and 
times come when, thinking of the past, one feels 
that joy is dead, and that neither day nor night, 
mirth nor music, the sunshine on nature’s face nor 
the smiles on human faces can ever waken the 
soul to pleasure again ; yet still we know that the 
deepest griefs cannot forever last. In the silent 
lapse of time — that tender healer of the wrongs 
and pangs of earth — all sorrows lessen and all 
sufferings heal, for with every passing year and 
month and hour some newer good, some better 
hopes, some added joys are born to pleasure and 
revive earth’s saddened hearts. Ah ! William 
Smith, William Smith, there are few indeed 
who escape this world without knowing sadness ! 
Somewhere in the heart of every one there is a 
shrine sacred to the memory of a buried hope. 
It may have been a thwarted purpose once dear 
to the heart, the changing of which left all after- 
life ragged at the ends ; it may have been a love 
experience, whether in youth or manhood, which, 
like a subtle perfume, steals evermore upon the 
sense, recalling the lost one and arousing emotions 
that cause the tears to flow. Was it a thwarted 
purpose of life ? The heroic days of boyhood, when 
a career on the rolling deep was the ultima thule 
of happiness and the leaping pulse longed to be a 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


191 


sailor, are long since past away, and the slightest 
hopes of those days have never been realized. 
Life brought only the common lot of a laborer 
who delves and digs and toils for daily bread, but 
the old memory has its shrine in the heart, and 
there the fond spirit often bows, while the tears 
flow for the long-lost hope. Was it a love ex- 
perience? It is many years ago since in the lushy 
days of youth you walked the fields with Mary 
as you and she went berrying. But Mary now 
is sleeping under the greensward, her blue eyes 
closed forever where the daisies and violets sweet- 
est bloom, and the little fingers of your darling 
that once picked the berries, the stains of which 
you tried in vain to kiss away, have long since 
lost their cunning and mouldered into dust. And 
now you visit her lonely grave in the spring-time 
and drop tears and blessings upon its flowery 
mound, and go away sorrowing for the dead past 
that left you only a life-long regret. 

Merciful, therefore, is the fate that lightens the 
heart under trouble ! Blessed are the fingers of 
time that smooth our cares from the mind ! With- 
out such helps our condition would be intolerable. 
If our hearts were not light we would die, and if 
our griefs were not relieved we should not be able 
to retain our sanity ! 

And now our story ends. We know that the 


192 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOD 


new life in the West was x full of promise. There 
are no limits to the prospects that rise everywhere 
to the sight fair as the morning to the fond eyes 
of the young. And a new land is a land of 
hope. 

Nor were any natural expectations disappointed 
in the realization. Business from the beginning 
was good, and the people were very appreciative 
and kind. There seemed to be something about 
them resembling the country in which they lived, 
something broad, expansive, and unconfined, like 
the wide prairies and limitless plains. There was 
little ceremony in their manner, to be sure, but 
they got along very well without it. A man’s 
measure was soon taken there. His armor of 
wealth, culture, dignity, or any other of the 
adventitious aids of manhood in which men 
love to encase themselves, availed little to win re- 
spect ; it was soon penetrated by the keen glances 
of criticism. A man soon felt that he must stand 
before the people solely as a man, relying only 
upon his manhood for merit and regard, and he 
adapted himself to the situation accordingly. 

“ A gentleman !” exclaimed one of these men, 
with something of the breeziness of the wide prai- 
ries in his manner. “It is the man that should 
be highly polished, not his boots !” 

We see in time a little cottage in the suburbs 
of the Western city where the happy couple live. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


193 


It stands near the parks where all the summer- 
time the people gather and the children play. It 
was not always so comfortably arranged and fur- 
nished. At first it contained only four small 
rooms, then afterwards a front was added of four 
larger rooms, and then a dining-room and kitchen 
were attached, and a barn and stable built on the 
end of the lot, and, after a while, an adjoining 
lot was purchased and thrown into a lawn and 
garden. Thus also the house was furnished, piece 
by piece being added as could be afforded from 
time to time until the home was complete, — the 
zebra bed-quilt, in constant use from the first, now 
enjoying the post of honor and covering the bed 
in the guest-chamber. The home may be modest 
and unassuming, but it is theirs and paid for, and 
they are happy there, like the birds in their cosey 
nest. 

Yes, they are happy. The occupation of the 
day and the delights of home in the evening, — the 
prosperous business and the cheerful home make 
life happy. When they sit together sometimes 
listening to the music of religious services in the 
church hard by, when they watch the playful, 
laughing child as he climbs from one to the other 
to be kissed, when the bell-chimes have ceased, 
and the hymns are sung, and the services ended, 
and the people gone, they often look at each other 
and confess their happiness, 
i n 17 


194 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


It may be true that periods of reflection come, 
busy though the life may be and happy the home, 
in which the demon of ambition returns to ruffle 
all the calm of life and distress the soul. Such 
times doubtless do come. They are trying times ; 
they stir the soul to its depths. Then comes con- 
flict, and discontent, and unhappiness. In the 
effort to conquer ambition a soul-struggle must be 
undergone, the severity of which is known alone 
to those who have suffered it. Ambition can only 
be conquered by patience; it can only be overcome 
by following the peaceful routine of daily life. 
Will the sufferer have the requisite patience? 
Will he pursue his daily toil uncomplainingly and 
so come off victor? That memorable struggle in 
the days of youth, there on the hill back of Slo- 
pingdale, was a gallant wrestle against ambition, 
though it ended in defeat. That later conflict in 
New York was a severe trial for manly fortitude, 
and wellnigh broke the heart to win the victory. 
Again the struggle comes, again the will gives 
way, again the battle must be fought, and again 
work, persistent work, resolution, and patience 
must conquer it. Who can tell what the end 
will be ? 

Perhaps, too, times come when the old life, with 
that other love that was once so sweet, rises up, 
phoenix-like, from the ashes of the past and fills 
the heart with a nameless regret. That fateful 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


195 


passage in an ingenuous life can never be hidden 
away in forgetfulness. It may be pressed back, 
forced down, and covered up; it may be thought 
to be utterly extinguished, like the dying embers 
that have been stamped out ; but it bursts forth 
again, and in its lurid flames the past is re-read. 
And then the melancholy days come. Then sor- 
row, longing, heaviness of soul, and all the name- 
less pangs of remorse are felt again. 

But in the labors of the busy hours that follow 
these sad feelings pass away, and the industrious 
worker comes in time to feel less and less interest 
in the past, until at last, perhaps, he regains full 
self-control, and can say, without emotion, “the 
children of Alice call Bartram father.” 

One day he receives a letter from Slopingdale. 
It contains only one line, — 

“ The hounds are on his track. 

“ Swampus.” 

And then, about that time, on another day, the 
skies lower and the whole world suddenly becomes 
girt about with grief and gloom, — it is the day on 
which the child died, — the day that took away the 
comfort and the hope of life. 

Ah ! William Smith, William Smith, you had 
been living lately not so much for self and selfish 
ends as for your little child, — and now the child 
is gone ! 


196 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


The sunshine falls in checkered rifts upon the 
floor as in the days when the baby creeping there 
clutched it in his chubbby hands, but those little 
hands are still and cold now, — still and cold for- 
ever. 

You are holding the child still, though it has 
been dead over an hour. You cannot bear to lay 
it down, or give it to another, or go away. You 
sit there quiet and unheeding, watching the wan 
little face, kissing the cold fingers that will never 
again reach and clasp yours, looking down upon 
the white lids that have closed over the blue eyes 
shutting in their answering look of love forever. 
Tenderly you caress the still little form, hushing 
it in your arms, and rocking to and fro as you 
had so often done before to soothe it to sleep. 
Strange thoughts overcome you as you now and 
then bend down to kiss that white, waxen face. 
And the neighbors come and crowd the rooms, 
the noisy cries of the draymen come up from the 
street, the undertaker, with his assistant, rudely 
enters to measure the child for its coffin, and you, 
saddened to death, still sit there quiet and unheed- 
ing, looking down at the cold little face, kissing 
it often and gently rocking in your arms the little 
form from which the soul has flown, — and all the 
world is nothing to you. 

“ Oh, my God, my God, these cold little hands l” 

Poor father ! Lead him away, lead him gently 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


197 


away. Now take the child and prepare it for the 
tomb ; place the lilies on its silent bosom, white 
as its shroud, pure as the flown soul ; fold the 
waxen hands across the motionless breast and — 
close the lids of the coffin. 

It is the suffering of a father that we witness. 
How the loss of his child touches him ! The baby 
was winsome and pretty ; it was just beginning to 
walk and talk, and it loved to lie in his arms and 
smile in his face saying “papa,” “papa,” with 
such gladness. It will never do so again, — never- 
more. 

“Never to listen to that prattling voice again, 
never to watch those tiny feet proudly pattering 
over the floor, never to hold those clinging little 
hands, never to feel those velvet arms around my 
neck any more, never to know my baby again, 
never again, never again. Oh heaven, this — this 
is more than I can bear !” 

And now the child is in the casket, lying there 
in the midst of the satin and lilies as if in sleep, 
and the room is dark, and the coffin-lids no longer 
creak, and the undertakers are gone, and you feel 
that you must die unless you can weep ; — if you 
could only weep, only sit down there beside the 
child and weep ! 

Oh, try to think of other things! Think of 
anything but your dead child. You must bear 
the affliction, bear it like a man. Try to think 

17 * 


198 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


of life as filled with sorrow; think of it, too, as filled 
with joy. See, the sunshine steals into the room; 
listen, the birds are singing in the trees; look, 
happy faces crowd the street. The world still 
has its joys. It has not changed since yesterday. 
And your loved one shall live again. It goes down 
into the voiceless chambers of the silent dust to 
rise an immortal soul in the happy hereafter. Be 
comforted, your child is in another home brighter 
far than any that this world can give ; it is in 
your Father’s house, where you shall meet your 
darling when you, too, at last go home. 

Blessed tears, they have come at last ! 

And now you stand beside the open grave and 
hear the hard clods fall on the coffin. How cruel, 
ah, how cruel is death ! Oh, it is horrible to 
think of the grave, horrible to feel our dear ones 
torn from our sides, to lose our best friends, to be 
cut off from all the beauty, association, and love 
of those who are bone of our bone and flesh of 
our flesh, and to lay these dear bodies in the cold, 
dark, dank earth to rot with worms ! Yet this 
is life. We are born to die. All things lead 
but to the grave. The earth itself, gray with age, 
is but the tomb of man. Follow our ambition as 
we may, success and glory will not endure ; at 
the end our share in all the pomp and beauty of 
the world is that our graves are green. 

And now, the funeral over, a period of calm 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


199 


has come. While your wife has gone to her rooms, 
attended by loving friends, you enter the home- 
like study so full of memories and seat yourself in 
your easy-chair close to the genial hearth, and, 
looking into the fire, think and think and think. 

The past rises like a dream. You live again 
through all its well-remembered scenes. From 
the boughs of youth you pluck the fruit of joy. 
The happy days of youth, and hope, and love, 
how near they seem! how like yesterdays they 
come to mind, those halcyon days so fresh in the 
memory, though long ago buried under the weight 
of years ! Life was a romance in those days. 
Then the world was beautiful and all the people 
were honorable. Then all colors were rose-color, 
all women angels, all hopes easy of fulfilment. 
Then existence was joy and life a poem. 

How’ all this rises up like a ghastly mockery ! 
How different is the life we live from that we 
thought to live when we were young ! 

Now you learn the meaning of character, how 
it is shaped and fashioned by the love, care, and 
anxiety of active life, which, like mallets in the 
hand of the cunning sculptor, outline stroke by 
stroke the perfect statue. 

Perhaps you recall your married life, that 
union which is old as man and ever new. It had 
brought its graver cares. The little rill that bab- 
bled at your feet in the courtship days is a type 


200 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


of courtship love. The shallow, noisy rill still 
flows on, but it flows for others now. Its fretful 
current no longer typifies your life. Behold the 
deep river with its strong current and solemn 
tones ! such is your life as it flows down to the 
unknown sea. 

Perhaps you recall that prolific cause of remorse, 
the first quarrel with your wife. You were tired 
and out of humor that night when you came 
home. Stalking moodily into the dining-room, 
you took your seat at the tea-table without raising 
your eyes from the floor, and heard with exasper- 
ation her complaining, — 

“ I have waited so long with tea. I do think 
you might come earlier.” 

Then you should have raised your eyes and 
spoken kindly, and all would have been well. 
You looked up quickly with a harsh reply. Your 
look encountered a look as determined as yours ; 
it lowered not under your steady gaze. 

u There is no welcome for me when I come,” 
you said, “ so why come early ?” 

The sneer was undeserved. Even in your anger 
you should have remembered how much you and 
she had done to make your marriage happy all 
these years, and how much you had need of each 
other. But you thought not of this at the time, 
and if she thought of it your unkind words quickly 
dispelled her tenderness. Swiftly she retorted, — 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


201 


“ Fm glad you were not welcomed ; you don’t 
deserve it. Your heart has gone out into the 
world with your business. You do not bring it 
home any more. Oh, if you didn’t love me, why 
did you marry me?” 

You heard the words and sat astonished. This, 
then, was your recompense for all your self-denial 
and truth, your faithful vows fulfilled and obscure 
life. She was a woman, and, like her Mother Eve, 
could calmly reproach a man with being too kind 
to her and letting her have her own will, while he, 
true man, lived loving her, laboring and dying 
for her. The tone was strange, and the voice 
sounded far away. You scarcely remember your 
reply. You rose from the table, leaving its food 
untouched. Still her complaining voice went on, 
wearily upbraiding you. Then you left the house. 
You lighted a cigar and took a walk, and tried to 
get rid of thought. But your mind would not 
forget. Then you argued with yourself to prove 
your conduct correct. You were in the right. 
She did not meet you when you came home, as 
she should have done ; she annoyed you with a 
flippant remark when you entered the dining- 
room, which she should not have done; she acted 
sulkily and disagreeably, and, true to woman’s 
habit, had the first and last word, — and, alto- 
gether, she was to blame. 

AVith such sophistry you beguile your intellect, 


202 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


but your heart knows better, and through the 
long hours of the wakeful night it accuses you 
and robs you of rest, and the morning finds you 
weary, sad, and still angry. 

And thus you lived for a week, a long and 
weary week. 

And then the day came when your child, your 
boy, an angel now, was born, and there beside 
the couch of your suffering companion, her soul- 
ful eyes looking pleadingly up at you from the 
pillows, old differences were all forgotten and old 
offences all forgiven. You remember the joy of 
that hour, and still feel something of the peace 
which came and followed you through the after- 
years. 

And this was only two years ago ! And now 
the child is dead ! 

Oh, God ! how your hopes centered in that child ! 
How lovingly you cared for it, and how fondly 
watched the flower-like unfolding of its beautiful 
young life ! Ah, well ! it is all over, and life is 
dark now, and the world is nothing to you. The 
watchful care that guarded helpless childhood so 
far with pride and joy, that waited so patiently 
at the little one’s sick-bed with sorrow and fear, — 
sorrow for its suffering and fear of its dying, — is 
all past. O, the weary time, the long hours of the 
day, and the sleepless watches of the night that 
you passed bending over that fluttering little life 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


203 


as it hovered now near, now away, from you, until 
at last it slipped away into the unknown land to 
be ever beautiful in eternal childhood ! You are 
alone in the world ! 

How vividly you see all these images as you sit 
there gazing into the grate, your eyes feeling like 
balls of fire, and your nails starting the blood 
from your palms ! 

Steps and knocking at the door. And still you 
sit there unheeding, sorrowing, dreaming! How 
different is the life we live from that we thought 
to live when we were young ! 

Steps and knocking at the door. It is your 
wife. Rise, open those clenched hands, relax that 
frown, don’t tremble so, open the door and let her 
come in. Lead her to the window; listen, they 
are singing the Te Deum in the church hard by ; 
how the music swells upon the air ! It will do 
you good to hear it. How weak she is! Ah, 
yes, there is need for your strength ; be you, 
therefore, strong. Take her in your arms as in 
the olden days, for you have need of each other 
now. Tenderly wipe away the tears from those 
flushed cheeks, gently put back the damp, tossed 
hair from the pale brow, bend down and kiss 
those trembling, pleading lips. Oh, how true 
they have been to you all these years ! 

The music rises, swelling like a flood, and 
sweeping in waves of harmony through the air. 


204 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


Let its inspiration touch your heart and fill it 
with peace, — in the providence of God nothing 
truly good is ever destroyed. Father of all good- 
ness be praised ! A sunbeam of heaven has gone 
out of your earthly home only to shine in a more 
enduring mansion in the skies for evermore. 
Never let go of that comforting hope. Cling 
to it. Living or dying hold it fast. That faith 
will not deceive you. Pattering little feet will 
be heard again in our Father’s house, baby lips 
will be pressed once more in a happier life, and 
some music of that better land will contain your 
darling’s voice ! 

They embrace, standing there at the window 
shedding tears as they listen to the solemn organ- 
tones. 

A year has passed away and the worl 1 is bright 
once more. The pitying fingers of time have 
effaced the marks of care from the faces of the 
suffering. 

Ashleigh had not been heard from for a long 
time. One day a letter came, — it was from a 
detective agency, — offering a large reward “ for 
information which would lead to the apprehension 
and conviction of Edwin Parker, a man charged 
with murder.” Colonel Swampus evidently had 
suggested the letter ; but he little knew his man 
if he supposed this scheme would prove successful. 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


205 


Ashleigh’s old friend stood fast and true, neither 
duty nor reward having power to move him. 
Nor did he act wholly from a feeling of chivalry. 
The fate of Lilian was involved. Her happiness 
depended on his silence. Besides, the man might 
have repented. He could not shut the door of 
hope in the face of a penitent soul. In the excess 
of sympathy, which was ever his master-pain, he 
felt that no man is altogether bad. And he was 
right. In man there still lives the germ of good- 
ness, which, surviving the fall, allies him to his 
Maker. Human life, like the sea, is black, but 
each human soul, like each separate water-drop, 
in God’s light is white. 

But his silence was unavailing, for a week later 
he received another letter showing that a crisis 
threatened Ashleigh. It was from Slopingdale, 
and read, — 


“ The hounds have found him . 

“ Swampus.” 

And now a few more years come and go and 
we see a picture. On one of the aristocratic ave- 
nues of New York stands a beautiful mansion, a 
house wide and high, of the olden style, its many 
windows throwing a blaze of light at night far 
into and up and down the street, while through 
the open doorway now and then come glimpses 
18 


206 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


of a paradise within like a vision of enchant- 
ment. This is the home of the Hon. Harry Ash- 
lcigh. Here in this half-darkened room is his 
library, a wonderful collection of rare works 
filling the cases ranged around the four walls 
of the room. His easy-chair drawn up before 
the cheerful grate awaits him. The drawing- 
rooms open out before the gaze on either hand, 
filled with rich upholstery, works of art, blooming 
flowers, and singing birds. The fire-light falls 
upon and tints the Turkish luxury of the richly- 
furnished rooms with a warm glow. Draw those 
ample laces aside and you will see a carriage at 
the door, the blooded horses restlessly champing 
their bits. Mr. Ashleigh is home now from the 
last session of the Legislature of his State, of 
which honored body he is, videtur , a member. 
That music you hear comes from the farther par- 
lor, where a lady is playing an old love-song. 
How sweet is that melody, and how it creeps 
through the senses into the heart! The music 
ceases, and, entering through the open door, we 
see Ashleigh and his wife coming towards us, his 
arm laid lightly about her waist and she. looking 
up into his face smiling. She is little changed. 
She looks still as beautiful as when she was called 
Lilian Worthington years ago, her eyes retaining 
all the old magnetic power and her hair its pris- 
tine beauty, brown in the shade and golden in the 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


207 


sun. But Ashleigh looks older and sadder than 
when we saw him last. There is a strange look 
in his eyes that speaks of tension of mind and 
watchfulness. Perhaps the cares of business and 
the weight of honors oppress him. lie smiles 
now and his face lights up with the expression 
of old days. It may be that he is really happy. 
And why not? Is not his life fortunate? Has 
he not achieved success ? Did he not accomplish 
his mission? Does not the world honor him at 
last? 

And now, behold, here is another home in the 
great West, where a little cottage stands on the 
edge of a wonderful city. Around it, within a 
fence of hedge, are gardens, trees, grass, and 
flowers. It is a modest, unpretentious home, the 
home of William Smith. In the city, where he 
labors at his profession, he is known simply as 
“ Bill Smith, the lawyer.” And the familiar title 
is appropriate enough, for he moves in a quiet, 
patient way in and out of court and among the 
people busied in doing his duty. He has a 
reputation. Is it a reputation for greatness? No. 
Only a reputation for careful, honest work, for 
generosity, good fellowship, being kind to the un- 
fortunate, helpful to the needy, obliging to the 
people, and just to all. He lives an upright, 
moral, manly life. But he has attained to no 
worldly honors. 


208 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL . 


How different is the life we live from that we 
thought to live when we were young ! 

The day fades away, and the evening shades 
begin to cover the gray earth, and as the twilight 
crowns the west with a halo of purple, crimson, 
and gold, William Smith comes up the walk lead- 
ing to his home and enters the gate to the garden 
where a smiling face and a woman’s love meet 
him with a kiss. As he enters the garden a little 
child runs towards him and climbs about his neck, 
and he stops to fondle its pretty arms which en- 
circle his face and to talk back to those prattling 
lips that so sweetly babble. God was good, and 
sent them another child. He called the child 
Lilian . It was a fancy, he said, — a pretty name, 
and he liked it. It was a pretty name. Jennie 
would never know. She never did. 

And so the sun goes down, and night covers 
the gray earth, and the stars come out in heaven 
and glitter there like diamonds in the glossy 
blackness of a woman’s hair; and as the picture 
of these two homes, the one so grand and beauti- 
ful, the other so plain and humble, fades away 
from sight, a man sits in his humble home by the 
side of his wife and child and a thought steals 
into his mind about the past and other days, and 
he murmurs to himself, — 

“ He married for wealth and honor, and secured 
both. He lives in his grand mansion surrounded 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


209 


by all the aids to happiness that money and sta- 
tion can give, — I wonder whether he is happy?” 

And at the same moment of time another man, 
sitting alone in his luxurious home, looks around 
him on all the riches of his possession with dis- 
content and dread, and while there steals into 
the room the sweet air of a favorite song, the well- 
loved music of other days, his bosom heaves with 
a sigh, and he breathes to himself the thought, — 

“ He married for love and truth, and secured 
both. He is poor and lives in a cottage, — I won- 
der whether he is happy ?” 

And so the evening ends. 

But early next evening the people, driving home 
through the parks, pause a moment to notice a 
bearded man standing alone on the portico of his 
cottage home, with bared head, looking at the sun- 
set. And still he sees the whole of life through 
the golden haze of a vivid imagination, still lives 
in an unsubstantial world as beautiful as the mind 
of man ever fashioned, but as unreal as the purple 
mountains and gilded valleys of a summer sunset 
over Slopingdale. He is standing there as when 
a boy, looking into the eye of the glowing west, 
the glorified west, that, lighted with sunset splen- 
dor, had once seemed a path into heaven, and 
which will ever throw its lane of fire to beckon 
on his wandering feet. His face is radiant with 
hope as he gazes into the rosy sky where one star 
18 * 


o 


210 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


glitters. He has not lost faith in himself, but still 
believes he will obtain the recognition of the 
world and win honorable fame. Ah, well, it may 
never be ! It is sad to think thus, but some time 
the hard lesson must be learned. 

But it is not altogether hard. The lesson has 
its comforts. For when the world bestows its 
dignities upon the bold and unscrupulous, while 
denying recognition to modest worth and unob- 
trusive merit, when it rewards the clarion-toned 
bravery of war and spoliation and ignores that 
higher bravery of moral courage struggling, 
through mute inglorious ways, to do the right, 
then into every gentle soul from which it takes a 
hope away a thousand shining virtues enter, in 
forms of tenderness, sensibility, sympathy, trust, 
patience, and love, to shine upon the world and 
bless it with their beauty. 

Yet not to utter obscurity would the brave 
world consign our hero. It remembers him. It 
even points him out to observation. Here among 
trees and flowers and seats and winding walks; 
here upon the green lawn and under the bright 
sky; here, where birds sing and children play and 
flowers bloom and the steady stream of human life 
glides by, it sees him standing, his pale face lit in 
a nimbus of sunset gloiny. The great world knows 
the pathos of his life. It will long love to pic- 
ture him standing there looking into that flaming 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


211 


sky. The world will express its opinion of the 
man and all men who hear his story will know 
that, — for all his self-renunciation and perfect 
truth, for all his gentle life and moral bravery, 
for all the purity of his earnest soul — they be- 
hold, transfigured by the golden light of sunset, — 
A Prodigious Fool. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


11 After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.” 

Shakspeare. 

“ There all are equal : side by side 
The poor man and the son of pride 
Lie calm and still.” — Longfellow. 


The fire of October 9, 1871, will long be re- 
membered in Chicago. The world has nothing 
to compare with it since the burning of Moscow. 
In the confusion and fright of the hour, amid 
the toppling walls and crackling timber, and the 
scorching heat, which shrivelled and consumed 
whatever it touched, but little could be done to 
help the suffering or save the endangered. The 
instinct of self-preservation dominated over men, 
and thousands fled the city ; thousands, homeless 
and hungry, wandered out upon the open prairie, 
or, desperately, threw themselves into the lake 
only to drown. There were, however, many in- 
stances of heroism. On the night of the second 
day of the fire a young man, who had been fore- 
most in deeds of daring to save life, was missing. 
A man remembered having seen him enter a 
burning dwelling to save a little child whose pale, 
212 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


213 


startled face looked out from a window. He saw 
him rush through the flames up the burning 
stairs,— he saw him no more. When he passed 
that way again the house had fallen. Next morn- 
ing an examination of the spot revealed only a 
smouldering ruin. But a block away, sheltered 
by a stone wall near the river, the man was found. 
In the mutilated form cruelly burned they recog- 
nized Bill Smith, the lawyer. He had crawled 
there after saving the child, which lay asleep in 
his arms. They took him home maimed, blind, 
dying. A week later, there being no hope of his 
recovery, he was conveyed to Slopingdale, return- 
ing to die at thirty to the spot from whence he 
started thirteen years before to make a name to be 
trumpeted round the world. “ It’s a pity,” said 
his friends, when they saw him. “ He wasn’t a 
bad man, — only a fool, poor fellow !” 

When Ashleigh was fixed upon as the man 
they wanted, the authorities took the opinion of 
counsel on the subject of his arrest. The eminent 
lawyers, strange to say, perfectly agreed in their 
conclusions. They unanimously advised against 
his arrest. Therefore he was not arrested. Con- 
trary to expectation and in the face of justice, the 
man escaped merited punishment. He did not 
stand in the criminal dock, but, on the contrary, 
received, shortly afterwards, a high position under 


214 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


government. Possibly it is as well that his career 
should end in grandeur. There is a hereafter, and 
hell exists for those who deserve to be, but never 
are, punished in this life. 

The grounds of the lawyers’ advice when ex- 
amined were extremely plausible. The proofs 
were insufficient to convict. 

“ He was not guilty of murder at all,” argued 
the astute counsel for the State. “He was not 
an actual participant in the crime, for he wasn’t 
present when it was committed ; and as to being 
accessory before the fact, — employing another to 
do the deed, — there is no legal evidence to prove 
it. The confession of Sparr, his alleged accom- 
plice, in law is not evidence against anybody ex- 
cept himself. To say that it is a dying declaration, 
and therefore evidence, will not do. Dying declar- 
ations of the man killed are admissible against 
the killer, but dying declarations of the killer are 
not admissible against an accomplice. Neither is 
the confession evidence on the ground of its being 
a declaration of one of the parties to a conspiracy, 
and thus proof against each and all of the con- 
spirators, because it was not made during the 
progress of the conspiracy, but long after it had 
been accomplished and ended.” 

When Colonel Swampus heard this opinion he 
volunteered an opinion of his own. It was his 
belief that lawyers were rascals. “ I alius thought 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 215 

lawyers wnz d — d scoundrels,” said the colonel, 
u and now Fm sure of it ! ” 

And the Fool? Lingered in a living death. 
One day he called his daughter to his bedside. 
His wife was already there. They stood looking 
at him, knowing that his time had come. And 
then resignedly he took their hands, while his 
eyelids closed as if in sleep, and without a struggle 
his soul passed away. He is at peace. He never 
reached the end he aimed at, but died, as he had 
lived, poor and unknown. A dreamer from boy- 
hood, an idealist in manhood, ever following the 
phantoms of imagination, he lived in hope and 
died disappointed. He was a fool. And yet his 
career may not be uninteresting, for his was a 
generous heart and a gentle soul. When the time 
shall come to estimate a human life at its true 
worth, perhaps his memory, now unnoticed, may 
receive its due recognition and merited love. His 
grave is on the hill overlooking the village of his 
youth, Slopingdale. There it was his wish to be 
buried. He loved that spot. And there beneath 
a marble pillar broken at the middle, as was his life, 
with his dead child by his side, he rests at peace 
at last with all the world, the marble shaft above 
him preserving and publishing his last words, — 


“ I ASPIRED TO THE STARS, 

And died unknown.” 


216 


A PRODIGIOUS FOOL. 


From Cemetery Hill the view, as of old, is 
grand. The fields around are green again this 
May. The river slips like molten silver between 
the distant mountains; fhe village nestles against 
the hills, the sun shines, the birds sing, the chil- 
dren laugh, and nature smiles. All is joy. And 
motionless on the hill-side, like mere specks on the 
scene of gladness, a woman dressed in black, with 
her little daughter by her side, stand silent beside 
a verdant mound looking down at the green bil- 
low at their feet, where, in the embrace of death, 
the active brain and generous heart no longer 
pained, lies at rest he who Was at once the noble 
man, tender husband, loving father, true friend, — 
and Prodigious Fool. 


THE END. 


























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